Heartstrung
by x-benihime
Summary: It's been said that wherever you have/had a birthmark, is how you died in your past life. A scar that marks the fatal wound that killed you so you could be reborn again. It is also said that when/if you meet the person who killed you, you remember your past life and death and Lucy isn't a big fan of the pink-haired man she's run into. Soulmate AU. NaLu.
1. Prologue

_**A/N:** This was inspired by my lovely bae msmanga14 who has been freaking out as I go through the plot to this upcoming fic of mine. I figure that hey, maybe people would like a preview. This is my first Soulmate AU._

 _ **Fandom:** Fairy Tail_

 _ **Pairing:** NaLu_

 _ **Rating:** M - sexual content in future chapters  
_

 _ **Summary:** It's been said that wherever you have/had a birthmark, is how you died in your past life. A scar that marks the fatal wound that killed you so you could be reborn again. It is also said that when/if you meet the person who killed you, you remember your past life and death and Lucy isn't a big fan of the pink-haired man she's run into. Soulmate AU. NaLu._

* * *

 _~  
Prologue  
~_

* * *

There was a pattern that doctors found when they'd studied the correlation between people who did and didn't have birthmarks, soulmates, and memory recovery. It didn't happen often, but it happened enough that there were three rules:

.

 _1) Your birthmark marks the location of a fatal wound inflicted by the hand of another._  
 _2) If you run into the person who effectively ended your most recent past life, you will recover the memories_  
 _of said life and your death._  
 _3) For your souls to make amends, in this life you will be mates._

 _._

And unfortunately, this was not the kind of soulmate you could escape from.

On multiple past occasions where soulmates were too overwhelmed and hurt by their previous lives to forgive their attackers, they'd done their best to walk away. They'd moved halfway across the country, quit their job and cut all communication, and if the memories were too vivid, sometimes they would try to kill themselves.

But the world worked in cruel ways.

They'd move halfway across the country only to have to move back and find themselves right next to their soulmate. A new job would put them in the same area as—if not direct contact with—their soulmate. The gun would freeze up and wouldn't fire, the pills they'd taken were immediately rejected by their body or their metabolism would spike to filter the drugs.

There was no escaping fate.

And when Lucy learned about birthmarks and soulmates, she prayed she would never meet hers.


	2. Rule 1

**_A/N:_** _Shoutout to the lovely msmanga14 for listening to my boring voice as I read this to her. You make a good guinea pig ;) __And magerain. I do not deserve your kind words and thank you for putting up with my many in progress drafts. Don't die on me now XD_

* * *

 _Rule #1: Your birthmark marks the location of a fatal wound inflicted by the hand of another._

* * *

The marble was smooth beneath her fingertips, rough where she traced the letters. The cemetery was quiet today in the early morning. Clouds dimmed the light from the sun and Lucy could feel the fog on her face and chest.

She shuddered and pulled her zipper up to her neck.

"You could have at least told me why," she whispered, fingers coming to ghost over the tail of the 'y' in her mother's name.

As heartbroken as Lucy was, if her mother was in enough pain to have actually succeeded in killing herself, a part of her was happy she was free and hoped her next life would be better.

The other part was angry.

No warning. No reason. No nothing. She knew now that it had to do with her most recent past life and what had happened with her father, but when she was little she'd lost count of the amount of times she'd hear her mother crying and father apologizing. She'd always been confused as to why they were fighting and why mommy was so upset.

But no matter how many times she'd asked her mom what was wrong, she'd never get an answer. Layla would just put on a smile and take Lucy to the park or out for ice cream or something and tell her everything was fine and she shouldn't worry.

And for the most part, she had been easy to distract that way. The fights were usually just raised voices and back and forth rushed yells.

But there was one fight that she could not forget despite the many times she'd tried, worse than the others. One with screaming and crying and begging and Lucy with her hands over her ears wailing for them to stop.

That time her mom had taken her out for pizza, and they'd ended up in a new apartment.

When she'd asked where daddy was, her mother had explained that, "Daddy and Mommy need some time apart."

They'd moved a lot after that. It wasn't until Lucy was in high school that she learned about birthmarks and soulmates and everything started to make more sense. Her mother was one of the Marked, her father an Inflictor. They'd been working on their relationship the whole time they were together and even seemed to be thriving.

But that one fight…that one fight had changed everything. Lucy had no idea what it was about, and yet it was the reason they'd kept moving as much as they had, so fate wouldn't intervene and bring her mother and father back together again.

Even so, with all the moving, Layla had done her best to work through her memories. But each time she came back from a session, her mother had looked even more hollow and haunted than the last time.

Her own birthmark on her chest grew more and more daunting with each past life story she heard and with each time her mother's soft cries echoed through the walls at night.

If this is what it was like to have a soulmate, she didn't want one. Ever.

She didn't want to be tethered to her murderer because of something as stupid as fate. She wanted no part of the person who had shot her through the heart with a gun. She didn't remember, but there was no other explanation for the jagged splotch just between her breasts and the much larger twin on her mid-back.

She didn't want to suffer. She didn't want others to suffer and she wanted to help people like her mother, and after spending years of her life looking for answers for others…how could she not want her own. With all of the cases she'd worked on of birthmarks inflicted by gunshots, stabbings, serial killers and kidnappers, her mind was constantly in overdrive.

She'd been content to remain oblivious and let her mother have her privacy growing up, and in turn had managed to avoid thinking too much about being marked herself.

But if it was bad enough for this to have happened? For a soul-mated spirit to succeed in severing that bond…

It was a big deal. All over the newspapers. Front page. Cameras and microphones in her face. All asking her _why_.

She didn't fucking _know_ why **.**

She wasn't even sure how it had gotten out that her mother had been one of the marked, though it didn't come as a surprise to her. People were unnecessarily nosy bloodhounds when it came to gossip, especially when it came to the bonded.

With her finger slipping from the grooves of her mother's name, Lucy pulled herself to her feet and rubbed her hands over her face.

She needed a drink.

…

The fact that the pub closest to her apartment—in walking distance—actually had decent food and company, was a blessing. Whenever she had a rough or long day at work she could trudge over, guzzle down a beer and some fries, and then shuffle home and sleep warm and happy in her bed. The main reason for this was the fact it was almost always dead at lunch time and she could just relax and talk to Mira.

Today was not one of those days.

The bar was bustling.

Discarded yellow police tape littered the alley, a cruiser was parked in the front handicapped spot, and various patrons and staff were being questioned when Lucy walked in.

Her brow furrowed, gaze on the pair of cops in the corner as she took her regular spot at the bar opposite the beer taps. Upon seeing her, Mira stopped the flow of beer, set down the half-full pitcher she'd been pouring, and rounded the counter swiftly, drawing Lucy into her arms.

No words were exchanged as the blonde hooked her chin over Mira's shoulder and bit back the tears building behind her eyes. Lucy's breath hitched slightly and Mira squeezed her in response before letting go, hands coming to rest on her shoulders.

The softness of her eyes made Lucy's heart ache and she internally thanked Mira for not uttering the words she'd heard too many times. She'd been through it before with her little sister, and knew what would and wouldn't help. She was there. She understood. She knew how Lucy was feeling and that was more help than any bunch of words could be.

"We've missed you this week," Mira smiled gently, bringing a hand up to brush a fallen tear from Lucy's cheek.

The blonde weaved her fingers through the remaining hand that rested on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "I've missed everyone too."

With a swift kiss to the forehead, Mira pulled away and moved back behind the bar to finish pouring the pitcher and Lucy turned forward in her seat. She could see the reflection of the pub behind her in the mirror behind the liquor bottles and eyed the slew of patrons. She came here expecting it to be quiet.

Well, too late now. She'd at least grab some food and a drink before she left.

"The usual, Lucy?" Mira asked, loading a few pint glasses into the washer. Her eyes darted back and forth between Lucy, the patrons and the dishes. How Mira ran this place by herself during the day, she'd never know.

Lucy nodded, fiddling with an idle string at the cusp of her sweater's wrist cuff. The damn thing was braided so she couldn't pull it out or break it and any time she'd be able to cut it off with scissors she was either too lazy or she'd forget.

She welcomed the beer set in front of her and took a few, long, grateful gulps, letting out a faint sigh afterward. It was cold and thick on her tongue and the bubbles made her throat burn and the back of her eyes prick.

With everyone happy for now, Mira stood behind the bar wiping down the counter while Lucy eyed the cops in the corner.

"What's with the men in blue?" she asked, nonchalantly, tracing the rim of her glass with her index finger. If she was lucky she could get it to sing for her sometimes, but today was not that day. She'd have to down half the beer before she'd be able to do that and she didn't feel like guzzling at the moment.

Mira stopped and blinked. Raising an eyebrow, she looked to Lucy, "You didn't hear?"

Lucy blinked at her slowly, "I've been kind of out of it, Mira."

Mira flinched and nodded, "Right, sorry." She looked over to the corner and Lucy followed her line of sight. A man with long black hair and a woman with long blue hair stood side by side in the corner, backs turned, notepads out, scribbling down information. Something knocked at the back of Lucy's head but she ignored it.

"There was a shooting here last week," Mira said, and Lucy spun back around, wide-eyed. "A cop was shot. Apparently a man has been frequenting the pub scenes around town and pulling patrons into alleys. Mostly young women. An officer was here when that man was and ended up getting shot. Nothing major, but they've been doing investigating since the guy got away. We had to shut down for a few days." A soft squeaking echoed as Mira began to polish water droplets from a wine glass.

"Shit," Lucy breathed, "is the guy okay?"

Mira laughed, "Oh yeah, he barged in a few days later demanding to be let back on and," she adopted a goofy expression with a deeper voice, "'find the crazy-ass bastard who got him benched.' They had to drag him back to the hospital. He still had an IV catheter in his hand."

Lucy giggled and took another sip of her drink. Mira's attention was diverted briefly before she reached above her and pulled down a plastic jug.

"Be careful, Lucy," Mira said softly, twirling the pitcher on her finger before bringing it to one of the spouts, "the women so far have been around your age." She pulled on it's tap and beer flowed.

The blonde waved her off, "Don't worry about me, Mira. I'm never out late anyway."

"I know," she smiled, "I'm just saying. I worry, you know?"

"I do," Lucy reached over the bar to give Mira's free hand a squeeze. "Thank you."

With a final nod, Mira finished off the pitcher and disappeared to deliver the order, leaving Lucy to nurse her drink, alone. A tingle ran through her body and she shuddered, curling more into herself and leaning heavily on the wooden countertop in front of her.

She was able to relax for a few moments before a voice jarred her.

"Lucy!"

She flinched and her stomach sank.

 _Oh no._

"I've been wondering when you'd come back, I've been looking everywhere for you!"

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit._

"Jasoooon," Lucy forced a smile and turned in her stool. Sunglasses. Bag. Camera. Notepad. No mistaking it. "How are you?"

"Good actually," Jason grinned, bounding right up to her, "boss gave me my first article to write and I haven't been able to start it yet." With a flick of the wrist his notepad was open and she heard the faint 'click' of a pen. "I need to pick your brain."

Lucy sighed, "Jason, I can't help you right now. I—"

"You're the only one who can help me, Lucy, this article's gonna be good," the photographer was bouncing on his heels, "so cool. So excited."

She couldn't deal with him right now. His positivity was infuriating and Lucy inwardly prayed he would leave before she snapped and told him to fuck off. She liked Jason. She really did. He wasn't a bad person to work with when she was looking for old newspaper articles for her own job. He helped her on more than one occasion and she'd normally be happy to help him out.

Just not today.

"Not today, Jason," Lucy sighed, chugging the rest of her drink. On an empty stomach and with the stronger than average percentage of the beer, Lucy could already feel the buzzing in the back of her brain. "Go ask someone else."

"But the article's about your mom."

Lucy froze.

"What?" she nearly spat, glancing sideways to him. Her canines found the inside of her lower lip and she bit down, hard, to keep herself from saying anything else.

"Yeah, nobody's been able to finish one yet and I've been given a week deadline. Figure the best source would be you," he grinned.

Why the fuck was he grinning?

Who the _fuck_ was _he_ to _grin_ at her and ask her for her _help_ to _write an article on the death of her mother._

"You know," Lucy started, turning to him, "I expected this from a lot of people, but not from you."

Jason's smile fell, "Wh—"

"Couldn't even wait until the body was cold, huh?" the blonde nearly snarled and swallowed the thickness out of her voice. "Just have to be the first. Get your big break."

Jason's eyes widened and then narrowed, "Well if not me then someone else will write it and I figured since we're friends—"

"That I'd divulge my mother's life story to you just cause we know each other?" her nails dug into her palms with how hard she was clenching.

"That it would be easier to talk to me than someone else," Jason's voice raised, defensively. "I figured if anyone was going to be able to get it out of you, it was me."

Lucy's face warped and Jason balked.

"Uh…that came out wrong, I meant—"

"No," she growled, "talk, Jason. Talk to me about how entitled you are to information that is none of your fucking business. I'd love to hear your reasoning." She was sitting tall now, arms crossed.

"I never said I was entitled," he was frantic, tripping over his words, "I just…I mean…my boss…"

"My family has nothing to do with you or your article so why don't you just tell your boss to fuck off and get his live entertainment elsewhere." Lucy turned back to the bar, pointedly not making eye contact with the man.

"This isn't just about you, you know," he said, annoyed, "you owe it to other bonded pairs to tell your mother's story so—"

It didn't even register to Lucy what she'd done until the nerves in her hand exploded in protest and Jason was on the floor, hissing.

She loomed over him, fist clenched at her side.

"I don't give a shit," she choked, "about other people right now. My mother just fucking _died_ , how insensitive can you _assholes_ be," she hissed, lunging for him again.

A firm hand wrapped around her bicep and pulled her back.

"Get off," she growled, whirling around. Whoever had the gall to stop her was gunna get a good kick to the—

"I'd love to, Blondie, but it ain't gunna be with you."

Oh, so that's what the itch at the back of her brain was telling her. Long black hair. She should have figured it would be him.

"Let go of me, Gajeel," she said lowly, giving her arm a yank. He was strong though and his grip wouldn't be broken that easily, but she tried to free herself anyway.

Gajeel just shook his head, "Can't do that. You just assaulted someone in front of two officers." Lucy's gaze shifted to the woman beside him.

Juvia. Of course.

The corner of her mouth turned up slightly when Lucy's eyes met hers before hardening into a stern expression as she stood by her partner, hand on her hip. Gajeel looked over her shoulder to Jason who had now stood up. "I'll take care of her, sir," he said.

Sir? Since when did Gajeel say _sir_? He would sooner bash his head through a bullet-proof window than show that much respect to a civilian.

Jason rubbed at the red spot his jaw was now sporting before looking back to Lucy, "It's going to get written, with or without your help, and not everyone is going to care about your privacy."

Lucy lunged for him again.

"Alright, let's go," Gajeel grunted. His grip on her tightened and he dragged her away from the bar. "Put her pint on my tab, Mira!" he called back.

Lucy faintly saw Mira nod before she was out the door, Juvia close behind her. She could hear Jason muttering something about her overreacting to Mira, and Lucy growled under her breath. The fucking nerve.

"He's just excited," Gajeel said, guiding her to the back of his police cruiser, "you know that."

"Doesn't give him the right to be an insensitive asshole," Lucy hissed, finally freeing her arm. Gajeel pulled open the back seat and Lucy ducked in. As much as she hated being in the back, she wasn't an officer.

"Doesn't mean you should punch him, Lucy," Juvia chimed.

"He deserved it," Lucy crossed her arms in front of her chest and pointedly avoided Juvia's back-turned gaze.

"If I were off duty, I'd totally agree with you," Gajeel grumbled. Lucy looked back to the rearview mirror to see his eyes flash with a wide grin.

She smiled back.

In the few minutes it took them to get to the station, Lucy watched the orange and red-stained trees blur by. It was getting colder, she'd be needing a jacket soon, and following the leaves as they moved by calmed her down.

They eventually pulled into the parking lot and Gajeel let her out of the car. Juvia was already off to her own, giving her a gentle wave before disappearing around the corner.

Lucy followed Gajeel into the station, head bowed, and shuffled toward his desk. The normal bustle and chatter of the precinct was dulled, only a few officers loitering. With the long weekend, Lucy was surprised at the bunch of people that were still around. She could spy Erza and Jellal flipping through files, a few others scattered, and Makarov in his office.

Gajeel took a seat, leaning back in his chair and she sat across him, letting out a gush of air.

"Ye're lucky we were there," Gajeel crossed his arms, eyeing her, "yeh know that, right?"

She wasn't in the mood for a lecture, "Do you think I care?"

"You don't get a free pass just cuz of what happened, Bunny-girl," he told her. "He coulda pressed charges and there're enough witnesses that me and Juvia wouldn't be able to cover for ya."

Lucy sighed, "I wouldn't ask you guys to do that."

"But we would and you know it."

Yeah…she did.

"This isn't his story to tell. This isn't _anyone's_ story to tell. Isn't privacy a thing anymore?" she growled, sinking further into her chair.

"People're assholes, Lucy."

She blinked at the use of her name and the gravity of his voice. His eyes were soft, a stark contrast to the normally hard glare and line of his jaw. It was unsettling.

"I don't need your pity," she spat, "nor do I want it."

Gajeel snickered, "Like I'd dare. You know me better than that."

She let out a soft laugh. He was right.

Not that she'd admit that. She'd sooner pull her own teeth out than tell Gajeel he was right.

He wasn't one to boast, but he had an aura about him. It gloated _for_ him, and Lucy wasn't about to give him that satisfaction.

Even if he deserved it.

"Thanks," she muttered, meeting Gajeel's gaze.

"For what?" he raised a studded brow.

"Looking out for me," she said. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know." Gajeel sunk back in his chair, leaning into the spring. He'd really mellowed out in the few years she'd known him. He'd been so closed off and uptight at first, ignoring her when she asked him questions, brushing her off and talking down to her and his fellow officers. He'd settled in though, apologized, and now there wasn't much he wouldn't do for his friends and coworkers. Levy had really been good for him.

Speaking of Levy…

"Shouldn't you be gone right now?" Lucy smirked. "Not only is this a long weekend, it's a pretty big one…" she trailed off, smirk morphing into a splitting grin.

A smile ghosted over Gajeel's features before setting into a knowing gaze.

 _Don't deflect._

Lucy sighed.

"I just don't have the energy right now," she said softly, "I don't have the energy to fight Jason, _or_ the other papers trying to get their hands on my mom's story. I especially don't have the energy to worry about them warping the facts."

Gajeel just watched her, silent.

"Fuck," she choked, "they're going to fuck up so much. They only tell the story they want to tell, not what actually happens."

He just stared at her, perplexed.

"Sorcerer Weekly," she clarified, pulling up a leg under her to sit cross-legged on the chair. "Whenever I use their articles, I take them with a grain of salt because they're all about the drama. Not the truth. Whenever something gets into their hands they fit the story to what they think will sell, not for what it is."

"An' you think Jason'd do that?" Gajeel asked.

Lucy shrugged, "Even if he didn't, the editor or newspaper director would get his hands on it at some point and change it to whatever it is he wants."

No regard.

Lucy rubbed at her eyes, pressing the heels of her hands into them. She let out a low groan and slumped forward onto Gajeel's desk, resting her chin on folded arms. "He's not wrong. Someone will do it if not him."

"So why don't you do it?"

Lucy blinked.

"What?"

Gajeel just looked at her like it was the simplest thing in the world, "You write the article. Story's gunna get out either way, you might as well be the one to tell it so people don't warp it to sell 'nstead of inform."

Lucy gaped at him for a few moments before she sat back up, shaking her head. "I'm no writer, Gajeel. I can't write an article."

He scoffed and let out a loud, hard laugh.

Lucy's brow furrowed as Gajeel snickered.

"Lucy." There it was, her actual name again. "We use profile reports a _lot_ when building and closing various cold cases, both in and outta court, an' I can say without a doubt yours are our favourite." Gajeel turned to glance over at the few other officers still around. "Ask anyone, they'd all agree. You've gotta gift for storytelling. You're _totally_ a writer."

She blinked at him and swallowed, turning her head away.

The words meant more than she was willing to admit.

There was a slight metallic squeak as Gajeel leaned forward in his chair to rest his forearms on his desk, eyes glinting. "So write it. Go beat that guy's ass."

Lucy smiled small.

"Okay."

Gajeel nodded, satisfied, before twisting his wrist to get a look at his watch, "And as you mentioned before, yeah. It is a special weekend, so I gotta go. 'm late already."

Lucy stood as Gajeel did. He threw a few things into a duffel bag before swinging it over his shoulder and rounding his desk. He waved to Makarov before falling into step beside Lucy.

"Where do I even start though?" she muttered, "I don't know what happened…"

Gajeel looked down to her with a highly amused expression. "Where do you usually start, Blondie?"

She face-palmed.

"There ya go," Gajeel paused at the front doors, giving Lucy his full attention. "Just like any other case. You know that."

"Thank you, Gajeel," she whispered, digging her hands into her pockets. "Really."

He just nodded and slid out the door, "Have a good weekend, Blondie."

"Happy Anniversary!" she called after him. He didn't turn back as he glided down the steps, but she didn't miss the mini air-salute he threw her way before hiking the duffel bag higher on his back.

Though if he was going to meet Levy, that meant she wasn't working today.

Fuck.

With a sigh, Lucy trudged down the hall, avoiding the odd body brushing by. There weren't many people she didn't recognize, but if she was lucky enough, hopefully she wouldn't run into anyone that would kick her out.

She'd missed the station.

Her office had stuck her on mandatory leave—much to her protest—leaving her to wallow in her empty apartment surrounded by boxes of her mother's stuff, piled high to the ceiling. After a week of being closed in by the untouched cardboard, she'd gotten claustrophobic. She couldn't sit around and do nothing.

So if she used her leave for… _personal_ research…her boss wouldn't be mad at her, right? Erik could be nice when he wanted to be, and technically she wasn't abusing her access privileges. She _was_ building a profile.

…on her mother.

To help people. Yeah. Exactly.

 _She_ was people. Helping herself is fine.

Lost in her own thoughts and on autopilot, it took Lucy a second before she realized she'd already come to stand in front of the plaque labelled, _RECORDS ROOM._

She pulled her lanyard from her neck, and with a controlled breath, swiped her access card and the little light blinked red.

That wasn't right.

She chewed on her lip, confused, as she tried again.

It wasn't working.

She swiped it again.

Red.

Again.

Red.

Again.

Red.

"Fuck," she hissed, kicking the door. They must've already suspended her access. When she'd refused to leave her office, she hadn't actually expected to get kicked out and locked out. But blocking her from this too? What if she needed to get in for an emergency or something?

She could almost _hear_ her boss snickering and telling her to go home. If Levy were in there, she'd let Lucy in no questions asked.

Fuck.

Deflated, Lucy turned back in the direction she came when a muffled voice came through the closed door.

"Three-One-Seven-Three, if your card isn't working, Ice Breath."

She froze in place.

Had she imagined that? She didn't recognize the owner.

Curious, Lucy pocketed her access card and punched it in.

3-1-7-3.

The light flickered green and a distinct _chunk_ followed the unlocking of the electronic latch. Lucy pushed down on the heavy handle experimentally, and when it gave she leaned into the door to wedge her way inside.

So she hadn't imagined it.

She flinched slightly as it clunked shut behind her. A wooden wedge lay discarded in the corner, indented from keeping the door open for however many years the station had had it. In all the time Lucy had been coming here it had never been closed.

Then again, she'd never been here when Levy wasn't working.

Various folders were strewn all over the front desk, loose sheets of papers and pictures cluttered and mingling with stray paperclips and sticky notes. She'd never seen this much of a mess in the records room before, which was saying a lot since Levy was usually hidden within massive stacks of stuffed manilla folders.

They were always tidy though, not frayed.

"Was wondering when you'd show up," the voice continued, getting louder along with shuffled footsteps. "Just cause I got stuck down here and Makarov benched me doesn't give you the right to ignore your part…" the man rounded the corner and froze.

"…ner," he finished.

Lucy's heart lurched and her chest _burned._

—

 _His hands are in her hair, gripping it at the back of her neck._

 _He hovers over her, one arm braced on the wall. His knees are spread and her thighs are hooked over his hips, ankles crossed. Her hands grip at his shoulders and she moans into his mouth as he kisses her._

 _She shudders, hips bucking. His jeans are low on his hips, but not low enough. They aren't gone like they should be and he isn't close enough._

 _His mouth breaks from hers and he moves up her jaw, teeth nipping lightly toward her ear and then sinking into the flesh of her neck._

 _The moan is involuntary._

 _The hand in her hair moves to pull one of hers from his back, stretching it out beside her to weave fingers through fingers and she pulls him from her neck with her remaining one._

 _He doesn't give so easily._

" _I love you," he breathes against her skin, and she can feel it._

 _She can_ feel _it._

 _Her whole body tingles. Her chest aches, and a new wave hits her core at full force, flipping and aching and he just needs to be closer._

 _Tears prick the backs of her eyes as she pulls him back to her, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth before kissing it and carding her fingers through his hair._

 _He breaks away, panting, a sheen of sweat on his brow. The light from the lamp on the bedside next to them glistens over his forehead and eyes._

 _Those dark, adoring eyes, staring at her like she's the world and he'd never be able to live without her._

 _Those eyes._

—

Those eyes.

Lucy swallowed as she fell back into the door, gripping blindly for the handle. Those eyes were staring at her, boring into her like fire and she scratched roughly at her mark through her shirt.

Her back was burning too.

She knew the facts. She knew what she heard from clients but this…this was different. Hearing and helping was so much different than actually living through it.

She bit her lip.

He'd _loved_ her?

"You fucking liar," she hissed, tears falling down her cheeks. The ache in her chest. The love for the man before her. The relief at seeing him. She didn't want it.

She didn't want any of it.

Why.

She couldn't remember why. God, why was she always wondering why? Couldn't she just get all the answers she wanted the second she needed them? Was that too much to ask?

There was agony behind his focused gaze and Lucy watched his jaw clench as he inched toward her, hands outstretched like she was an animal he was afraid of spooking. Which in all honesty she probably was.

"Fuck," he cursed softly, lips pressing into a line. "Okay…okay…don't run. Please don't run."

"You killed me," she breathed, fingers now tangled in the front of her shirt in a vice-grip. Fuck, her chest just wouldn't stop _burning_ , she couldn't tell if it was her heart or her mark anymore. Her whole body was on fire and she slumped heavily against the door, legs threatening to give out.

"I know," he choked, coming closer.

"You _killed_ me," she hissed. She could feel her nose scrunching, teeth bared of their own accord.

"I know," he echoed.

She pressed down on the handle. She needed to get out of there. She couldn't breathe.

"I know," he said again, closer. The closer he was the more she couldn't move and the more she wanted to scream. "Please don't leave. Please."

She wanted to, god did she want to.

But something about the tone of his voice stopped her.

His eyes were dark, they looked almost black in the dull room but there was a faint tinge of green where light hit them. They were wide, slanted slightly, and a little obscured by large chunks of bright pink hair. Dark eyebrows were drawn low in worry and his jaw was set, though she could see the tip of a sharp canine biting his lower lip. A large scar warped the skin of his right cheek and another the right side of his neck, both a faded silver.

He was in a black, baggy, button-down with a white shirt underneath, tucked into dark jeans. His sleeves were rolled up, a yellow paper bracelet around his left wrist. His stance was hesitant.

He was silently pleading with her to stay.

Lucy pulled the door open and shoved it as wide as it could go, breathing in the rush of displaced fresh air from the hall. It was cool and it cleared her head.

" _Wait—_ " he took a step toward her, voice frantic.

She cut him off. "Stop."

Lucy kept her head down, hand raised and stretched out. She heard him falter, shoes scuffing the floor as he stopped his advance. At least he was respecting her wishes, not many people seemed to be doing that lately.

Her lips still tingled, her jaw and neck were burning and her heart was aching for her to look back up and see him again. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, hard, to sober herself up and swallowed the blood drawn. Breathing deep, Lucy straightened up and pounded a closed fist against her chest until the anxiety faded.

With a hand still on the cool metal, she jammed the small, wooden triangle under the crack of the door and wedged it open before turning back to him. "If I'm staying, this needs to be open."

She could see the hurt on his face.

"Not because I think you're going to do anything," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and rubbing her eyes. "I've been stuck in a small space for a week and I'm starting to get claustrophobic. "

"Okay," he said softly.

"And you need to back off," she looked back to him, eyeing his sigh of relief.

He nodded, taking a few steps back from her to go sit on the stool behind the cluttered desk. Crossing his arms, he continued to look at her.

"And would you stop _staring_ at me," she groaned, backing up against the wall beside the door, "I can't breathe with you looking at me like that." It was a few more feet of distance away from him and the further she was the more her heart began to slow.

She wasn't here to deal with him after all. She was here to find out about her mother.

"I'm sorry," he told her, averting his gaze.

"For staring at me or for killing me?"

He flinched, visibly deflated.

"Sorry," Lucy breathed, running a hand through her hair, "that was harsh."

"S'okay."

She let out a steady breath before looking back to him with a hardened gaze, "Look. I just…I can't deal with this right now." She bit her bottom lip. "I've got other shit I need to do."

The pit in her stomach rolled as she walked away from the front and down one of the rows of filing cabinets. Levy had spent months going through every case. Here they were usually classified by open, shut, cold and then arranged by date, but with the recent influx of soulmate cases Levy had been working on creating a new set of cabinets.

Levy was a fast reader, photographic memory. When she and Lucy had first met, Lucy began talking about a profile she was building, but couldn't seem to find who this client had been in his past. After asking a few questions, Levy had disappeared for a minute before coming back with an open-case file. What her client and his Inflictor had already remembered corresponded perfectly with the events reported in said file.

After that, whenever Lucy was working with a pair who she knew would most likely have come into contact with the police, she would come talk to Levy. After a lot of trial and error, they'd found that when comparing birthmarks to pictures of fatal wounds from coroners' reports, you could find who the Marked person was in their past life along with all the facts surrounding their death—kind of like an index in a textbook. It came in handy when bonded pairs were too overwhelmed by emotion to remember facts correctly and helped Lucy and her boss immensely.

The records room had never been used in that way before, and it had been eventually worked out that Lucy was allowed access.

After that one interaction, Levy ended up creating a ton of reference files. She'd gone through every case that resulted in death, and condensed each one into a single page summary for easy find, complete with a picture of the fatal wound and where a birthmark would be should that case have resulted in a soul-bonded pair. She'd even requested files from neighbouring cities and with help from a few other police stations—interconnected networks were being developed in case of Marked being killed in a difference place than they'd lived or grown up.

It was a massive project, one she was still working on and one that had helped Lucy time and time again.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait! Where you goin'?" Lucy heard the guy, her…soulmate…scramble out of his chair and follow her down the row. "You can't be back here."

She scoffed and held up her access card, "I've been in here more in the past three years than you have in the past…however long you've been here." Lucy glanced back over her shoulder to throw him a smirk.

"Five years," his eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms over his chest.

Lucy raised an eyebrow, "I think I'd've noticed a cop walking around with pink hair. _Hot pink_ hair."

He ran a hand through the strands, sheepishly. "Lost a bet last week. Dyed it yesterday."

Lucy involuntarily giggled and clamped a hand over her mouth.

Where'd _that_ come from?

He blinked at her.

"What?" she asked. He was staring again.

He looked away, cheeks pink, "Nothing."

She swallowed the butterflies in her stomach at his downcast expression. If he'd been working here the whole time, how had she never seen him before? Even without the pink hair, with being bonded…it was weird.

Lucy shook the thought from her head.

"I need to work," she told him, turning back to the cabinet. She yanked open the _'Head'_ drawer and started leafing through the folders.

"Okay," he said softly, "just…lemme know if you need any help."

"I won't."

He shuffled away and Lucy's stomach sank.

He'd killed her. Why did she feel guilty? She had no reason to feel guilty.

 _Aren't you being quick to judge someone based on their past without knowing who they are now?_

She'd heard Erik say it time and time again, but this was different.

Why would you kill someone you claimed to love? She'd never dealt with a soul-bonded pair like this before, all of her experience was useless, just tossed out the window.

Lucy rapped the heel of her hand against her forehead, and with a deep breath turned her attention back to the folders. Her mother's mark was a gunshot to the back of the head, so it should be in…

"Yes," Lucy bounced on her heels, pulling out the folder.

Her face fell.

"Fuck," she grumbled, plopping down on the floor.

It was thick, at least fifty summary sheets and since she didn't have a reference photo of her mother's birthmark…she was going to have to look through all of them.

"This is gunna take awhile," she sighed, setting the folder in front of her.

…

It was taking Lucy a lot longer than usual to narrow down the possibilities.

Not only did she have no reference photo, the injuries themselves were so varied any one of them could be her mother. She could cut out the cases where the bullet managed to exit through the front of the face since her mother didn't have another birthmark there, and she could cut out the cases where the wound was inflicted by a woman—she knew her father had been male in his previous life.

That still left her with twenty-three remaining cases, none of which she seemed to be able to rule out. She didn't have enough information about her mother.

"I can help, y'know."

Lucy's head snapped up at the sound of _his_ voice. She glared, "I don't need help."

"Never said you did," he'd popped his head around the corner closest to her. "Just sayin'. I worked on documenting a lot of the pre-existing soul-bond cases when I was in training, so if you're stuck I could really help."

"I'm fine," she said curtly, yanking the next dauntingly fat folder into her lap.

He shrugged his shoulders before disappearing.

Three files later, she still wasn't getting anywhere and her stomach was churning. She hadn't eaten since breakfast and had no idea what time it was.

Lucy pushed herself to her feet, stretching until her muscles hurt before letting out a breath and relaxing her arms at her sides. She'd been on the floor in one position for way too long.

Faint voices echoed through the room from the front desk.

"—was spouting nonsense…how he knew me…said just cause…my hair was different…didn't mean…but—"

When had someone else gotten here?

Curious, Lucy listened as she moved up the row to the front of the records room.

"Okay," she heard another guy talking, "so, the woman the suspect was talking to, said he was asking whether or not she had a birthmark. You say you followed the voices, found them in the alley, and then the guy saw you.

"He was rambling nonsense about you, then he shot you, and then he ran. That sound about right?"

"In a nutshell," she heard her soulmate answer.

"Awesome," the first guy was talking again. "Got your official statement and now can go back to work," his voice was gravelly, irritated, "why does everyone get a long weekend but us?"

"Yeah, well," her soulmate grumbled, "at least you're not stuck down here on cold case duty."

"That's your own fault, man," the first guy laughed.

She knew that voice.

Lucy rounded the corner and a smile crossed her features. Even with her sight a little blurry from all the reading, there was only one other cop she knew with short black hair who walked around in just his wife-beater. He had his notepad out and a file under his arm, glancing back and forth as her…soulmate—no, her Inflictor—talked.

"Gray," she breathed, securing her arms around her middle and shuffling over.

Gray's head snapped over to her, and it took a minute before he returned her smile. He set the folder and notepad on the desk before coming over to her, "Lucy." His voice was gentle.

Lucy opened her mouth to talk, but nothing came out and she soon found herself wrapped in a tight hug. She smiled to herself as she wrapped her arms around his back and pressed her forehead into his shoulder. She'd missed Gray.

"It's good to see you," his chest rumbled, though his voice was soft in her ear, and she nodded before pulling away.

"Good to see you too," she whispered, swallowing.

"Haven't heard from you, we were all starting to get worried," he told her.

"Haven't had much choice," she muttered. As much as she loved her boss, she was seriously pissed off at him for that. Work helped.

Gray shook his head slightly and blinked as it clicked, "Wait…how'd you get in here without your card?"

"I thought she was you when she came down here."

Gray turned back to her Inflictor and Lucy watched as he froze for a second before looking back to her, wide-eyed.

"Shit," he breathed.

"What?" Lucy's brow furrowed. Gray ran his hands through his hair, drawing in a shuddering breath.

"Nothing," he said softly, shaking his head before looking back to her Inflictor. "Pink looks good on ya, pyro."

The man behind the desk glared, "I still don't get why you had to pick pink."

Gray smirked, "Cause it was funny then and it's funny now."

Lucy just blinked. He was acting weird.

Gray took a few steps back from her, checking his watch, "Crap. It's getting late, I gotta go."

"Liar," Lucy glared playfully with a smirk, "that's the oldest excuse in the book."

Gray held his hands up in mock-surrender, "I have no idea what you're talking about, I have work to do."

Lucy just stared at him.

"You, stay out of trouble," Gray pointed to her Inflictor who just scoffed and rolled his eyes. He then looked to her, "And you…" he trailed off.

Lucy raised an eyebrow.

"I never saw you. You aren't supposed to be here. I was never here." Gray spun on his heel and walked out the door.

Well then…

"That was weird," she muttered.

"How do you know Gray?"

Lucy blinked and turned back toward the desk, meeting her Inflictor's eyes. His jaw was set and she watched him swallow and how his brow twitched slightly. Was he annoyed or…jealous? She couldn't tell.

"He and I have worked together a lot," Lucy said bluntly, "why? How do _you_ know him?"

"He's my partner."

Lucy was silent for a minute.

"Then what are you doing down here?" she asked. "This is Levy's room."

The man rubbed at one of his eyes with the knuckle of a closed fist, "I got stuck on desk duty after getting shot the other day."

That was…not what she was expecting.

Curious, Lucy eyed the hand of his currently pushing the hair out of his eyes. The yellow bracelet around his wrist stared at her, as did the healing scab on the back of it.

Her eyes narrowed, "Did you break out of the hospital and barge into Fairy Tail? Are you _that_ cop that got shot?"

He stared at her, "You stalking me or something?"

Lucy shook her head, "No. Just came from the bar actually. Mira was telling me about it."

He mulled that sentence over, nodding his head slightly, seemingly accepting it.

"How are you here then?" she asked. "Shouldn't you still be in the hospital? It's only been what…like a week?"

He shot her a smile, "Wasn't a lot of damage and was through and through. Discharged myself against medical advice and wouldn't leave here when Makarov tried to kick me out."

"You're an idiot," she said simply, heading back to her files.

…

"So if you're not a cop, then what are you?"

She'd managed to eliminate another five files, but no matter how many times she read through them, not one seemed to feel like it was her mother.

Which was dumb because on paper, any of them could be and a few seemed like they would be. But it didn't feel right. None of them felt like her.

And now her Inflictor was hovering again.

He'd poked his head around the corner and was now leaning against one of the cabinets, eyeing her.

"What?" She was tired, and irritated, and not in the mood.

"Normally this place is off limits to anyone but officers," he told her, head tilted slightly, "and you're obviously not a cop, so…"

"What makes you think I'm not a cop?" she challenged. "Could be you're just unobservant."

His eyes narrowed, "I'm many things, Blondie. Unobservant isn't one of them."

Lucy groaned and slumped back against the soul-bond filing cabinet. "Oh, no. Please don't call me Blondie. Gajeel does that enough already."

He blinked at her, wide-eyed, "You know Gajeel?"

"Yeah," Lucy sighed, "I know that stubborn metal-head alright. 'm good friends with Levy, too."

A large, goofy grin lit his features, "Oh, I like you already."

Lucy laughed and then swallowed as a wave hit her. She shouldn't be laughing right now. Not with him, or at all.

"Anyway," he continued, "I know you're not a cop because you've never been at any of the mandatory staff meetings."

She nodded, "Alright, fair."

"So?" he raised an eyebrow. They were dark brown—a stark contrast to the pink hair, but oddly enough didn't look that bad. "What are you?"

She let her head fall back against the cabinet and looked at him with a bored expression, "If I tell you will you leave me alone to work?"

He nodded.

"I'm a soul-bond profiler," she told him, pulling her knees up to her chest. "I write summaries of the past lives of Marked and Inflictors."

He looked lost for a few seconds before his eyes widened and he pointed at her, "You're Lucy Heartfilia!"

Lucy blinked, blankly. "What?"

The smile that overtook his face was dazzling as he started talking with his hands. "Oh man, I love your reports, I use them all the time! They flow so well and they're the easiest to understand and the juries always _love_ them. I owe you so many cases that would've fallen through without 'em." He was pacing now.

Lucy just stared at him, wide-eyed.

"I didn't know who you were or where to find you but I've been meaning to ask around and say thank you," he stopped and turned to her, features less animate and softly genuine. "Thank you, Lucy. Really."

She couldn't help the small smile that tugged up the corners of her mouth, "You're welcome. Happy to help."

He grinned back before cocking his head to one side, curious. "So what exactly _is_ that, anyway? A soul-bond profiler."

"You love my work but don't know what it is?" she snickered.

His gaze narrowed, irritated.

Lucy rolled her eyes and smiled to herself. "I work for a therapist who specializes in soul-bonded pairs," she started.

"When couples remember and need to work through their pasts, they often find a shrink. Getting a mediator, a third unbiased party, is often important since it can be hard to distinguish between past and present memories, and past and present personalities," Lucy looked to see if he was following her so far.

He seemed to be.

"However, memories are often misconstrued from original fact by emotions or misinterpretation," she continued, "and often times getting outside information from concrete sources can help to clarify a timeline of events."

He nodded.

"That's where I come in," Lucy told him, "I build profiles of my boss' clients. It's my job to find out who they were in their past life, and what happened leading up to the Marked's death. I give those to my boss so he knows what he's dealing with, and then can inform the pair of facts they may not have known, or clarify moments full of too much emotion. It makes it easier to work through."

"So you come here and dig into our records because…"

"Because police stations are more likely than not going to have information on murders that have happened, whether the cases are open are closed is irrelevant. It's still a way to find a name and then build a profile," she finished.

He nodded, "That's really cool actually."

"So my boss worked out a deal with Makarov. I'm allowed to use your files to find out who my bosses clients were, if I give a copy for the corresponding case file. We inform our clients of this of course, that these will not be seen by anyone outside the precinct unless a murder occurs currently that involves motives from previous lives."

The man nodded, "Yeah. I know about that rule."

With that, he disappeared back around the corner.

And part of her felt guilty.

That part felt even worse when she saw the burrito he'd left her.

…

"Dammit!"

Lucy slammed a drawer closed, letting out another yell when it shut on her fingers. Sticking a knuckle in her mouth, she kicked the cabinet and paced until the pain dulled. They already hurt from the punch she'd thrown earlier, this didn't help.

She was no closer than she had been a few hours ago and just when she thought she may have found an answer, it would fall through. It was only after she'd made it through all the files that she'd found the note on the back of the reference folder.

 _Incomplete._

Which means she'd wasted all this time. Her mother's folder probably hadn't been processed yet, _and_ she had no means to contact Levy which meant that by the time she was back Jason would probably already be done his article.

She was screwed.

"Hey," his voice was soft, "you okay?"

She whirled around to face him. "Do I look okay?" she snapped.

"No?"

"No shit, Sherlock," she spat. "Let's give you a damn award for stating the obvious."

"You know, if you'd let me help you—"

"Then what?" Lucy scoffed. "What is it that you can offer me that I don't already have at my disposal here, huh? Do you have a photographic memory?"

"Uh…no," he was back at his previous spot against the cabinet, "but this _was_ my job you know."

"Yeah, to go around and arrest people. I get that."

"No…" he stopped, mulling it over, "well yes, actually. That's my job _now_. But before Levy, I worked with the records room and my job was to close cold cases by finding the current incarnations of past murder victims."

Lucy blinked, a little lost.

Her Inflictor smiled. "Okay, so, back when I was starting and soulmates weren't as common as they seem to be now, Makarov found that more often than not we could close cold cases if we compared fatal wounds to the hospital birthmark records.

"So I would pull out cold cases and go through each one, and if I found someone who matched the general description who had their memories, often we could close the cold case with the details they remembered, and sometimes even find their murderer. It's harder with serial killers and spree killers because there are so many victims and only one possible bond. They're more difficult to track down." His eyes darted away from hers.

"So you're basically me…except you're using who people were then to see who they are now…" she trailed off.

"And you use who people are to find who they were," he finished, looking from her back to the floor. She could see the gears turning in his brain. "Two sides of the same coin," he said softly.

She swallowed at that.

"Anyway, uh…" Lucy trailed off, "…uhmm…" Damn. She didn't know his name.

"Natsu," he offered his hand to her, "my name is Natsu."

"Natsu," she echoed, taking it and giving it a shake. "How does this help me exactly?"

Natsu smiled, "Because I have experience doing the opposite of what you do, _and_ I'm fresh eyes."

Lucy swallowed.

She really didn't want to do this.

But files were strewn everywhere, she was out of references and unless she wanted to spend the next month reading through all the records with the hope of _maybe_ finding her mothers case…

"Fine," she muttered. "But I have nothing to go on since the folder is incomplete and I'm pretty sure none of these," she gestured to the folders on the ground, "are her."

"So, lets approach this from another angle," Natsu spun on his heel and headed back to the front.

Lucy followed.

"What do you mean?" she eyed him as he took a seat behind the desk and pulled a notepad from one of the drawers.

He rummaged through the various markers and pencils before finding a pen in the iron mug on the desk and clicking the top, "You need to tell me everything you know."

Lucy stiffened.

Natsu looked back up at her from the notepad and his features softened. She looked away.

"Look," he said gently, "I know that I'm probably the last person you want to deal with right now, but I really do think I can help you. So we can put our stuff aside for now until we get this sorted out and then maybe we can go for dinner and talk or something?"

Lucy eyed him.

Wide eyes, slightly furrowed brow, relaxed jaw. No malice.

"Maybe," she said softly.

She squared her stance as she faced him head on, "If you help me, I officially become a client and if you break confidentiality you will not like where you end up."

"You have my word."

Gaze hard. Focused. Even breathing.

"Okay," she swallowed and crossed her arms, avoiding his eyes.

"Who is it you're trying to find a past incarnation of?" he asked. She heard paper rustling and a bit of scratching against the notepad as he started writing.

Lucy bit her lip.

After a few moments of silence, Natsu spoke up again. "You're going to have to talk to me, Lucy."

She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply before turning back to him. "My mother. Layla Heartfilia."

He blinked at her before putting pen to paper. "Y-L-A?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'm assuming you know how to spell the last name?"

"Yeah, I do." He finished writing and looked back up to her. "Birthmark?"

"Back of the head, gunshot."

"Okay…" he kept scribbling. "Inflictor?"

"My father, Jude." Her jaw clenched.

"Same last name?" He raised an eyebrow.

She nodded.

"And they haven't remembered enough for you to be able to find her, or…" he trailed off.

Lucy set her jaw, "I haven't seen my father since I was ten, and my mother…" she hesitated, "…is dead."

Natsu blinked at her a few times before going back to writing, "So no outside contacts."

"No. No available outside contacts."

"Okay…" he whispered, finishing up a sentence and setting down the notepad. He angled away from her slightly, up to the computer and clacked away at the keys for a bit.

"So Levy," he drawled, biting the inside of his lower lip, "has a digitized version of these records as well so we can access them upstairs. Which also means…yes!"

Lucy moved around the desk to stand slightly behind Natsu, glancing over his shoulder at the screen.

"She also has records of the cases she hasn't summarized yet," he grinned, teeth bright against the screen's reflection. He looked back at her, "How old was your mother?"

"Forty-seven."

"Forty…seven…" he echoed, typing a bit more. "So cut out the last forty-seven years. Do you know the sex of your father in that life?"

She nodded, "Male."

"Male," more typing and clacking, "okay then. What about how old she was when she died?"

Lucy shook her head again, "No idea either."

He looked back at her, "Not much to go on."

"Well my mother never told me anything and I barely remember my dad, so sorry if that's inconveniencing you," she growled.

Natsu let out a low breath, "Sorry. Just…"

The two of them sighed.

"Oh," Lucy remembered, "no exit wound."

His fingers clacked on the keys once again.

"Alright, well we've got twenty-nine possibilities here," Natsu said. "What's your mother's birthplace?"

"Her birthplace?"

"Yeah," he pulled up another filter window on the screen, "Gray and I are working on a few theories, and we've noticed a lot of the time you'll be born again close to the same area you've died."

"Hm…" that wasn't a bad theory actually, "Magnolia, Fiore."

"Okay," he typed that in and ten bright yellow lines popped up. A few clicks later, the printer behind them was spitting out two sheets of paper.

He handed one to her.

"All of these are possibilities, but the highlighted ones are the most likely. Let's pull these and see what resonates with you, okay?" he stood from his seat.

He was a few inches taller than her up close, she had to tilt her head up a bit when she nodded.

"Alright," he stretched, "we've only got a few hours before the records room is supposed to close, so c'mon."

Lucy paused at the desk, toying with a loose picture from one of the open files.

"Natsu?"

He turned back to her.

"What if her case file isn't here and we're just running in circles? What if her file is half a country away?" Her voice cracked and she cursed her throat.

"You grew up around here, didn't you?" he asked, and she nodded.

"We moved a lot, but from one side of the province to the other…"

He smiled, "Fate likes screwing with people, remember?" His expression was pained. "I guarantee you if her file isn't here, it's closer than you would think. We'll find it, okay?'

Lucy nodded and Natsu disappeared around a corner.

She followed him to the open-cases cabinets.

…

"This is pointless!"

Lucy once again found herself kicking at one of the filing cabinets, running her hands through her hair.

None of them fit. None of them were her mother.

"Are you sure it isn't this one?" Natsu held up a folder she'd been looking at intently for the past fifteen minutes and Lucy shook her head.

"I'm sure."

"How do you kno—"

"I just know!" she yelled, hands in the air. "You said you could help and you've done nothing!"

"We don't have much to go on! This isn't my fault!" he countered, standing from his spot on the floor.

"So it's _my_ fault?" she growled, turning to him.

"I never said that," Natsu said lowly, "it's always hard to find answers with so little to go on."

Lucy crossed her arms and paced back and forth, breathing heavily. Who the hell did he think he was?

"Is there _anything_ you aren't telling me that could be useful?" he pressed, voice calmer now. He followed her movements, trying to meet her eyes which she refused to do.

"No."

"Any discussions you overheard?"

"I was ten!"

"Any fights? Anything?"

"No, Natsu. Don't you think I'd've thought of…" she trailed off.

Oh.

"That," Natsu was pointing to her. "That right there. What was that?"

Lucy shook her head, "Nothing."

"That's not nothing. You blanked out for a second," he walked up to her, taking up her whole field of vision. "You remembered something."

"It's nothing. Really. No new information, just—"

"Lucy."

His gaze was hard.

"Tell me."

Lucy bit her bottom lip before relenting. "There was…this one fight," she started, drawing in a shuddering breath. "Happened right before we left."

Natsu waited patiently.

Lucy looked up and blinked to hold back tears. "It was the worst I'd ever heard. I could actually make out what they were saying that time they were so loud."

She saw Natsu move, hand slightly outstretched to comfort, but catch himself and stay put, wedging his hands deep into his jean pockets.

"I don't remember much," she nearly whispered, "but I remember hearing my dad yelling 'you weren't able to protect her before, what makes you think you can now?'"

Silence.

When Lucy finally managed to look back up at Natsu, his face paled.

"What?" she asked.

He shook his head, "Nothing."

"Natsu," she said lowly, "what is it?"

He stood up straight and headed back toward the front desk. "Nothing, it's late, we need to pack up and get out of here."

"Natsu I swear to god," she followed after him, close to yelling, "if you don't tell me what's going on I'll—"

"I can't," he hissed, whirling on her, tugging at his roots. "It's a bad idea, Lucy."

"How do you know it's a bad idea if you won't _tell me?_ " she growled, slamming her hands down on the files all over the desk. Papers scattered, but neither cared. Lucy was too angry and Natsu was packing up his stuff.

"Because it will hurt you!" he yelled, clenching his jaw.

That shut her up.

Natsu licked his lower lip and rubbed at his face with an open palm. "If we go this route, Lucy, it will hurt you and I…" he shook his head, "I can't do that again."

They stood in silence for a few more moments before Lucy spoke up.

"Please?" she whispered. "Can you…just…please."

Natsu looked at her through pained, slitted eyes.

He took a deep breath.

"In the cases I've heard something like that…" he looked away, "nine times out of ten…" he shook his head.

"Just say it, Natsu!"

His eyes flashed to her.

"There's a ninety percent chance that your mother in this life was your mother in your past life," he said curtly, turning back to her.

Lucy's stomach sank.

"No," she choked.

"Lucy," he said softly, "we don't have to do this, okay? We can just…keep going through files until we find her, or call Levy…"

Lucy brushed away new tears from her waterline, "No."

"No?"

She swallowed, "No. I need to know, and if the only way to find her is…is to find _me_ …I have to do it. We'll be reliving our past life anyway, might as well make use of the memory we recover, right?"

Natsu nodded.

"Okay," her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, "so where do we start?"

"The file cabinet," he said. Lucy turned but was stopped by a hand on her upper arm. She turned to face Natsu and pulled away gently.

"Tomorrow," he told her, "we don't have time today."

She nodded quietly as Natsu bent down to pick up the fallen sheets.

Lucy knelt down next to him and picked up a picture.

It was a mugshot of a man, dark blonde hair and beard—peppered with silver—pulled back into a ponytail. Cold, grey eyes stared at the camera and a thin scar lit the skin of his left cheek, haphazardly stitched with black string.

—

" _You know," she whispers, threading a needle, "if you just tell me what I want to know we don't have to do this again."_

" _I've told you," he breaths, "I don't know who you're talking about."_

" _Bullshit," she snaps, giving the man's chair a kick so he topples over._

 _And then she's on top of him, right in his face. His dirty, bloodied face with a gushing gash she'd just recently opened._

" _You fucked that woman and her daughter over," she sneers, "I saw you. You were going to kill them."_

" _Doesn't mean I have any idea who you and your mother were," he snarls, grinning at her with reddened teeth. "Though believe me, if she was as feisty as you, I regret not getting to her first—"_

 _With a boot to the face, she silences him, holding back tears threatening to fall._

 _So he's not the one. But that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve to be punished._

—

Lucy felt like she'd been hit by a car.

She was frozen, picture in hand, but had relived that moment so quickly Natsu hadn't noticed. Standing up slowly, Lucy held the photo up to him.

"Who is this guy?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Natsu turned his attention to her and plucked the photo from her hands, "Con man."

Lucy watched as he stuck his picture into a folder, "What case is that?"

Natsu sighed, "Boss has me looking into connecting a series of tortures to the death of a young woman. They were all con men, all kidnapped in the middle of a con, tortured for information and then dumped at the doorstep of a station a few towns over."

Lucy was barely able to force her voice out, "Who was the woman?"

"Orphaned since the death of her mother, went through the foster system until she was eighteen. Started seeking out con men when she was around twenty, and was killed at the age of twenty-five," he sounded bored but protested violently when Lucy grabbed the folder from him. "Oi! What the hell, Lucy!"

No. Please no.

She shuffled through the various papers, written reports, documents, pictures, everything until she came across the coroners report.

The picture.

Lucy fell to her knees, dropping the folder on the floor in front of her.

The woman had short brown hair, a heart shaped face and long lashes.

But that wasn't what drew her attention.

Right in the center of her chest, was a bullet hole. She'd've been shot point blank, and the picture right behind it showed the exit wound blowing out the back of her spine. With the body being cold and the lack of blood, Lucy could see the margins of the wound.

She unconsciously brought a hand to her chest.

"No," she shook her head, tossing the photo to the side and rifling through the folder again. Who was it? Who had shot her? What had happened?

"Lucy, what are you—" Lucy faintly registered Natsu picking up the photo and drawing in a quick breath.

Her fingers stopped on a picture.

A man in uniform, hair slicked back. It looked grey but he couldn't have been older than twenty-five. He had a stern look on his face, dressed in black, professional. A scar on the right side of his neck.

And those dark eyes.

It was attached to an investigative report. This man, he'd been sent undercover to find out whether or not this woman, this woman who was hunting con men, was the one they were looking for, and then catch her in the act for a clean arrest.

His notes were written on the back of the official report.

 _ **Suspect made me at the end and I was forced to defend myself.**_

She could feel it. She could feel that bullet rip through her again and she couldn't stop the wave of tears that fell as she curled into herself.

He really had lied to her. He'd tricked her.

This woman was _her_.

"Lucy, wh…what?" a hand came to rest on her back.

"Don't touch me!" she nearly screamed, backing away from him. He stared at her, wide-eyed, before looking to the photos she'd found.

"Holy shit…" he breathed.

And that, for some reason, she found that funny.

Lucy found herself giggling, cackling as the tears fell, "Oh man. This is…this is too much," she snickered, bringing the cuff of her sweater to her mouth as she laughed.

Natsu waited for her to calm down.

"So…I meet my soulmate…" she starts, talking more to herself than to Natsu, "who claims to have loved me. I can't find my mother's file to see why she killed herself, and then I find out I tortured con men and was killed by my undercover FBI agent pseudo-boyfriend." The laughs overtook the tears as more fell.

"I can't…" she breathed once she calmed down. "I just can't…"

"Lucy…" Natsu reached for her, tears of his own glossing his eyes over, "please…we need to talk."

Lucy stood from her spot on the floor and backed up against the wall, shaking her head. "No…no way I'm having a civil conversation with you over dinner. I'm done. I'm done with today."

And with that, she walked out the door.

* * *

 _So...what do you think so far?_

 _-xb_


	3. Theory 1

**_A/N:_** _Wasn't expecting to take this long...sorry guys. Real life is super time consuming_

 _Aside from that, I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT KIND OF RESPONSE FROM THE FIRST CHAPTER OMG GUYS. SERIOUSLY. YOU KILLED ME. THANK YOU ALL SO SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH YOUR REVIEWS MEAN TO ME. THEY KEEP ME GOING. THANK YOU._

* * *

 _Theory #1: If you have no birthmark, you are an Inflictor_

* * *

 _She twists her wrist, coating the inside of the short rocks glass with the amber liquid. Scotch whisky._

 _She's not a big fan of hard liquor, but beer would clash her outfit. A halter-neck dress with a plunging neckline and stilettos was not something to drink beer with. Wine or scotch._

 _She hates wine._

 _She takes a sip of her drink, careful to avoid getting too much lipstick on the rim. Matte didn't leave behind as much as regular, but red was always prominent and she prefers keeping her lips stained deep._

 _She relishes in the burn as it coats her throat, all the way down to her empty stomach. She's warm now, her head tingles, and she peeks over to one of the far tables._

 _There he sits._

 _Short, dyed black hair, reflecting blue. Salt and pepper scruff on his cheeks and dark eyes. She can't tell whether they're green or brown but it doesn't matter to her. He's unfairly attractive for someone in his mid forties._

 _Or at least he should be if it was_ him _._

 _Either way, he's her next suspect._

 _He sits with a middle-aged woman and man. A large briefcase peeks out from beneath the tablecloth and when the middle-aged man isn't looking, the woman steals glances at her suspect. She smiles, licks her lower lip and bites._

 _Her suspect doesn't react with a smile, but he winks in such a way it looks like an eye twitch._

 _She has enough experience with differentiating between the two to know secret flirtation. She's watched masters for years._

 _A lot of good it does them when they're in her chair._

" _Waiting for someone?"_

 _Fuck._

 _She'd heard someone come up behind her, but thought nothing of it. She'd prayed they'd want to talk to the girl next to her and not her directly._

 _If he talks to her, that means she can't go through with her plans tonight. She can't be noticed or placed at his last known location. She can't be more than just a passing customer and that means, tonight, this man gets away with his con._

 _Oh well…she doesn't think he's the one she's looking for anyway._

 _She turns to the voice and smirks, "Something like that."_

 _He's tall, handsome, broad and beautiful. His eyes are dark, almost black, and his smile is dazzling. His hair is slicked back and falls just past his shoulders, startlingly silver with a slight blonde tinge, but he's not the age for it to be natural. He holds his own drink in one hand and leans against the bar with a forearm._

 _He's in full black. An open button down exposes the tanned skin of his chest and tucks into deep black slacks. She doesn't see his shoes because yes, he's attractive, but his grin doesn't need to be any wider, and it would be if he knew she were sizing him up._

 _He was being discreet himself anyway, but she didn't miss the way his bottom lip rolled over his lower teeth. He was avoiding biting it._

 _It was nice of him._

" _You don't seem like you'd be old enough for grey hair," she grins, raising a brow and leaning slightly sideways to get a better look at his oddly coloured locks. He looks up as if he has the ability to see it himself and smooths his free hand down over his hair._

" _I lost a bet," he tells her. "Dyed it yesterday."_

 _She giggles._

" _Why grey?"_

" _My friend has an odd obsession with the colour for some reason," he moves in a step closer, and the light reflects off his face. The silver of his hair matches a patch of jagged skin on his neck and she finds herself trying not to stare._

 _Who is this guy?_

 _She twirls her drink again, downs the final sip and sets the empty glass on the bartender's side of the counter._

" _Well," she says, turning to him. "I've been kept waiting long enough I think."_

 _He raises an eyebrow and smiles, "That an invitation?"_

" _Depends," she leans toward him, "you taking it?" She sees the muscles in his neck tense slightly. She makes him nervous._

 _Good._

 _He tilts his head toward the bartender without breaking eye contact, "Another drink for this beautiful young woman and I'll have the same."_

 _She registers the faint sound of 'sure' from behind the bar and two glasses hitting the hardwood._

" _So," he smiles, "do I call you Beautiful? Or do I get a name?"_

 _She snickers, "What kind of pickup line is that?"_

 _He shakes his head, "No pickup line, just honesty and flirtation."_

 _She eyes him. He's attractive, seems witty, and is the reason another drink is in her hand free of charge. His aura is a little daunting, however. He seems exhausted, the weight of the world on his shoulders, but when he smiles at her it goes away._

 _This could be entertaining._

" _Elie," she offers him a hand and he takes it in his own, bringing it up to his lips. The cliché of all clichés._

 _Seriously, who the hell was this guy?_

" _Haru."_

—

Lucy didn't feel like the drink in her hand anymore.

She shoved the whisky bottle back into her liquor cabinet and dumped the glass and shot in the sink. She'd really been looking forward to it too, a drink always helped her to relax when her brain was in overdrive or when she was on edge.

Which she currently was.

She shuffled into her living room, fingers around the neck of a beer bottle instead, and turned her attention back to the boxes of her mother's stuff. There were still two large stacks that reached the ceiling, and what was once a third tower, was now a row of scattered, ripped cardboard.

She hadn't meant to rip the boxes open, but a corner of one of the photo albums had been catching on the ribbing and she'd ended up tearing out one of the sides in her frustration.

And now her family and baby pictures were littering the floor, and if she was going to have to go through them all to put them back…

She took another swig of beer.

Not the best coping mechanism, she knew, but hey, it helped some and as long as she didn't overdo it it'd be fine.

Damn. The bottle was empty already.

Irritated, Lucy doubled back toward her fridge but stopped at the sound of a heavy thumping through the wall beside her.

Oh…right.

She tossed her empty beer into the recycling, ignored the clattering of glass against more glass—she needed to take her empties back to the liquor store—and yanked open the front door, catching it as it swung on its hinges.

"Hey," she muttered, glaring slightly at Gray. "You're late."

He looked at her, unimpressed, and held up her red lanyard, keys jingling on the end as he did so. "Yeah well, I had to go get this damn thing for you, which meant I ran into Natsu and he wouldn't shut up."

Lucy's eyes narrowed at the mention of her Inflictor and she snatched her keys, "My super wasn't too happy with me."

Gray shrugged, "Not my fault."

"Not saying it was."

Gray crossed his arms over his chest and avoided her eyes. He was bouncing slightly on the tips of his toes as he shifted from one foot to the other and bit his lip.

He was mulling something over.

"What?" Lucy wasn't in the mood to deal with dancing around. If he had something to say he should just say it.

"We need to talk," Gray sighed and stilled, finally looking at her, "can I come in?"

"Are you going to lecture me?"

"Probably."

Lucy let out an irritated groan but pushed her door open the rest of the way, "Fine. I've got nothing better to do really."

"Well don't I feel special," he teased, brushing by. She resisted slamming the damned door after him, instead closing it firmly, and locked it again.

"You should," she grumbled, but he was already in the kitchen, so he hadn't heard.

She followed after him, watching as he took his usual place at the small island in the middle of her kitchen. Since she wasn't entirely heartless, she grabbed a second beer from the fridge, twisted the cap off and slid it over to Gray. He caught it absently and brought it to his lips, downing a few gulps before setting it down.

He wasn't looking at her again.

He flinched as she pulled the stool across from him out from beneath the table, metal legs scraping against the glass tile. It wasn't good for her floor, but it got a reaction out of him—sometimes doing things like that was the _only_ way to get a reaction out of him.

"We've played this game before, Gray," Lucy wasn't having any of it. "So start talking before you sink your teeth any further into your own tongue."

Gray smirked slightly, "That's morbid, Lucy."

"I've been morbid lately," she deadpanned, "can't you tell?"

Gray let his mouth fall flat and the room was silent for a moment.

"You aren't driving right now, right?" he asked, features soft.

Lucy's brow furrowed. Why the hell would it matter if she was driving or not? She'd only had one beer and wasn't planning on going anywhere today. The last time she got points off her license was years ago and that was only cause a cop had caught her texting and driving. In her defense Levy was freaking out about Gajeel having proposed to her and Lucy had been fumbling with buttons, trying to call her.

It'd felt unfair but whatever.

She was a good driver and there was nothing that would prevent her from—

Oh.

"He told you," Lucy glared, "didn't he?"

Gray shook his head, "No, he didn't."

"Then why are you talking about driving, Gray?" she glowered.

"Because you know driving is dangerous when you're reliving memories even if you only blank out for a few seconds," he told her. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't taking any unnecessary risks."

"And what makes you think I'd do that?" she asked, taking another drink. The bubbles were starting to numb her tongue and she could taste more wheat than alcohol.

"I'm just making sure," Gray said softly.

"I'm not suicidal, Gray," Lucy said bluntly, "I'm not gunna put myself in danger just cause shit's happening."

Gray went silent at that and opted for scraping at the label on his bottle. He always did that when he was nervous, but why would he be nervous about telling her to not drive?

Wait.

"Gray," Lucy growled, "if Natsu didn't tell you anything, how'd you know what I was talking about?"

The mask he was forcing himself to wear was very good. His eyes darted from his bottle to her, back to the beer before he chugged a good half of it.

His mask was good.

But the guilt in his eyes was unmistakable and she recalled his reaction in the records room yesterday. The way he'd looked between the two of them. The way he'd fled without explaining why. The same look in his eyes.

It clicked.

"You knew," she breathed, and Gray pressed his lips together.

He swallowed.

"You knew?!" Lucy stood from her stool and slammed her hands down on the table. "Are you fucking kidding me, Gray? You _knew?!"_ her voice cracked at the increase in volume and pitch.

Gray didn't move.

" _Answer me, Fullbuster!"_

His jaw clenched as he nodded, but didn't look at her.

"Get out," she hissed, shoving the stool aside and pointing to the door. "Get out of my apartment."

"No."

Lucy stared at him incredulously and he met her gaze, eyes hard and jaw set.

"Get out."

"No."

"This isn't up for discussion. Get the _fuck_ out."

"I'm not leaving until you listen to me." Gray stood, grabbed his beer, and walked away from Lucy into her living room to take a seat on her couch.

Who the fuck did he think he was to have the audacity?

"And what makes you think I'd want to listen to anything you have to say?" Her voice was loud but she wasn't screaming anymore. Her throat didn't need to be more sore than it already was.

"Because I had a good reason," he said simply.

"Oh, you'd better have a good fucking reason for this," she snarled, following him over.

She opted to stand, hand clenched around the neck of her beer bottle as she stared him down. The height she had on him from this position made her feel better.

"How the fuck did you know?"

Gray rubbed at the spot between his eyebrows and leaned forward, free elbow resting on his knee. He breathed deep before looking up to her.

"He's my partner."

"Yeah," Lucy crossed her arms, "that's been established."

Gray shook his head and set his beer down on the coffee table. "No. I mean before. Last time. He was my partner in our past life too."

Lucy continued to stare, waiting.

His forehead was crinkled, eyebrows drawn together and his nose was scrunched as he ran his hands through his hair and tugged at the roots. His breathing was more ragged and his head was bowed with his leg bouncing quickly.

He didn't want to say it.

With that, he let his arms fall and body relax, gaze straight ahead as he took a deep breath.

"So when I relived _my_ memories, I relived the ones when I was with him, too."

He relived the ones when…

"Wait…" Lucy's brow furrowed, "what?"

Gray didn't move, but his eyes flickered over to her.

The pain she saw made her stomach churn.

"You're marked?" she asked, confused. He'd never told her that before. In the years that they'd been working together why didn't he mention—

"No," he said softly. "I'm an Inflictor."

Lucy's blood went cold.

Gray…sweet, kind, funny, caring Gray…was an Inflictor?

 _Gray?_

Her rage dissipated.

"You never told me," she whispered, "wh…why didn't…" she trailed off.

Gray smiled sadly, "I know how you feel about Inflictors, Lucy." Lucy shook her head as he kept talking. "I didn't want something that I'd done in the past to affect our friendship and it didn't seem to be relevant until now."

Lucy's eyes were darting everywhere, unseeing. Her brain was reeling, remembering every conversation, every argument, every case they'd ever worked together.

Who then? Who was it?

"I've never seen you with—"

"It's not romantic," Gray cut her off. "She's my best friend more than anything and she feels the same. I forgave her a long time ago."

Lucy looked back to him, confused, "You forgave _her_?"

He nodded, "She was a stalker. Suffered a lot in her past and didn't really know what she was doing. She latched onto me when I was put on her case. Really screwed with my friends and family in the months leading up to when we finally caught her." Gray reached for his beer again and took a sip. "It was suicide by cop, but technically it was still me that killed her."

Lucy had never heard of something like that before.

"I've never…" she trailed off, shuffling over to plop down next to Gray and set her beer on the coffee table.

"We're not all monsters, Lucy," Gray said gently, finishing off his drink, voice barely above a whisper. "Inflictors? Just because it was us that ended the life doesn't make us murderers."

Lucy shook her head and let it fall into her hands. She rubbed at her temples.

"Lucy…"

She looked over to Gray.

"As annoying as Natsu can be, and as much as he gets on my nerves, he's like a brother to me. He has agonized over meeting you for as long as I've known him," he told her.

"He knew you knew?" she asked softly, and Gray shook his head.

"No," he crossed his legs and turned to face her. "I never told him anything."

"Then…"

"He isn't marked, Lucy," Gray smiled sadly, "and he's lived in constant dread every day after learning about soul-bonded pairs. Brutal fear of possibly having killed someone."

Lucy shook her head and covered her ears. She couldn't hear anymore. It was too much. All of it. Too much information to process.

Gray pulled her hands from her head and waited until she looked back to him.

"And when I met you and remembered you?" he shook his head slightly, "I didn't know what to do. You were so happy, and so was Natsu. You both had anxiety about being bonded, sure, but it was too early and I wanted you two to stay that way as long as possible."

Lucy swallowed back tears.

"So," he breathed, "I kept you two apart. I did everything I could to protect you both…"

"Why didn't you just say something?" she asked. "Why didn't…why…why don't you just tell us what happened?"

Gray shook his head and took her hands in his.

"Because, Lucy?"

She looked up to him.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"How do you know?" she challenged, pulling her hands back. "How do you know that I won't believe you?"

"Because if I were you, I wouldn't believe me," he said softly, brushing her hair from her face. The care in his eyes is what did it.

Lucy crumpled, curled into herself, and cried.

She was angry. So angry. She never wanted this. She never wanted any of this. She didn't know how to deal with it. She didn't _want_ to deal with it. With her mother being gone and leaving her alone. With her parents separating and father never trying to contact her, not like he'd ever acted like he wanted her. She couldn't remember anymore.

And Natsu.

She never asked to be soul-bonded. She didn't want the pain that came with having been killed, let alone the agony that wracked her to the very core at having been in love with the man. To have cared and love so deeply by someone and then betrayed.

The worst part was she couldn't even be angry.

Because she'd been a criminal.

She had _tortured_ countless con men for information. She'd felt their flesh under her hands and her knife slice through their skin. She'd stitched them back up with no anesthetic and she'd felt their blood on her hands.

And she'd liked it. Relished in it.

What kind of monster was she to have felt that way? Even if the men she was going after seemed like they'd deserved that kind of pain, how could she have done that?

But as much as her head understood it, understood why her Inflictor had to go undercover to find her…as clear as the logic was…

It didn't change how much it hurt.

"I hate him," Lucy sobbed, "I hate him for making me love him."

She was pulled into a warm chest as she cried, and she fisted her hands in the shirt he was wearing. Her wails rang through her apartment until she didn't notice them anymore, ripping from her throat until it was raw. She had no control over her burning skin and she tugged at the fabric covering her chest to get to her birthmark.

Gray stopped her by pulling her into his lap and wrapping his arms around her securely. She flailed and screamed but he was strong and she wasn't fighting him as hard as she could have been.

"She left me," her voice was nearly unintelligible, warped with anger and muffled where her face was resting against Gray's neck, "all alone. She left me. She _left_ me."

Gray just held her tighter.

"Why did she leave me?" she whispered, voice raspy and arms now clutched around Gray's shoulders. Her nails dug into the fabric of the back of his shirt, and her jaw was clenched. Her breath hitched in her throat as she did her best to keep herself from breaking down again.

"I don't know," Gray breathed, rocking her ever so slightly. Her head hurt and she tried to stop but the tears wouldn't stop running down her cheeks even when she quieted. "But we'll find out. I promise."

She was exhausted, her eyes hurt, and she was most likely getting a migraine.

But Gray was warm, so she curled up, head hooked under his chin and she breathed deeply until her body tingled and her muscles fell slack.

She just hoped Gray wouldn't be mad she'd fallen asleep on him.

—

 _She once again twists her wrist and coats the inside of her short rocks glass, this time with a dark burgundy brandy. This one burns a bit more going down, but she still isn't able to drink a beer with her outfit._

 _Though not as formal as the last, it's still not a casual enough venue for anything else. Hard liquor was the norm and she was not going to miss out on this man tonight by being the woman drinking beer. As misogynistic as it was for a woman to stand out for her drink of choice, it didn't change the reality of the situation. She'd learned it the hard way once before—early on in her…endeavours—and was lucky to have gotten away with it at all._

 _She's learned a lot since then._

 _She eyes her next suspect._

 _He's alone at the table, still early in on his con. He's the only one she hasn't been able to find an initial picture for, but he looks just like_ he _would. Same hairstyle. Same general age. Same build. Those had been the parameters when she'd generated and stolen the list after all._

 _Days after she'd lost her last suspect—as much as she'd enjoyed her conversation with Haru it didn't alleviate her irritation at the loss—she'd kept an eye on the papers for suicides._

 _There were none._

 _However, when she'd instead found articles about the woman he'd conned having charges pressed against her by her husband, she'd been comfortable in concluding that he wasn't the guy she was looking for. She would've gone after him anyway to turn him in to the cops, but it hadn't taken long for them to find him._

 _The guy she's looking for is ruthless, and if it were him she would be looking at an obit in the paper. To anyone not reading between the lines, it would look and read just like a suicide driven by guilt at money loss._

 _She knew better though._

 _Once in awhile, there's always a slip up. This guy she's after is good. He's only slipped up twice. It may be easy for him to manipulate his targets into killing themselves with threats and fear, most likely with a gun to their heads or their loved ones, but he'd made a fatal mistake._

 _He'd underestimated a mother's love._

 _She could still feel them—her mother's fingers in her hair, brushing strands from her face and then pushing her under her bed. She could remember the tears running down her mother's cheeks. She could remember the sound of her mother's shallow breathing. Her mother's apologies. Her mother begging her to stay quiet._

 _She could remember the thunk of her mother's body hitting the ground, and she could remember the metallic smell piercing her sinuses. She could remember biting her hand so hard blood seeped through her teeth._

 _She could remember the blankness of her mother's face when she'd finally crawled out the next day._

 _She could remember screaming for her mother. She could remember being dragged away. She could remember the lights. The sirens. The police tape._

 _She could remember asking why. Why was her mother dead? What happened?_

 _Nobody knew._

 _At least…that's what they'd told her then._

 _She could remember they'd all been secretive. Hush hush. Whispering. She could remember being given a different name and being told to say it again and again until she couldn't remember what her mother used to call her._

 _She could remember people pulling her from one home to another. The kids that were there were never really her age and they usually wanted nothing to do with her, which was fine with her. She didn't want anything to do with them anyway. She'd been alone ever since her mother was killed, she was used to it._

 _She was also used to being singled out by the boys that were there. She was used to guys getting close to her. She was used to the hungry looks in their eyes. She was used to being used. She was used to wanting to give up._

 _But she wanted answers, and once she was old enough…they couldn't refuse her anymore._

 _They hadn't been able to._

 _It was amazing, she'd found, what people were willing to do for money._

 _A faint squeaking pulls her attention back to her suspect as he stands from his table and pushes his chair in. There's a woman with him now, smiling at him. He gestures to his phone, she nods, and he heads outside._

 _She pays her tab._

 _She moves._

 _She grabs her clutch and swiftly glides into the women's bathroom. It's empty._

 _She undoes the clasp, pulls soft tissue from a pack and twists two pieces high up into both sides of her nose. It hurts like hell, but is definitely better than the alternative. Even with her sense of smell gone, she still remembers the scent of her mother's blood._

 _She can't wait to smell her killer's._

 _With tentative fingers, she slips a dime-bag from a slot in the side of her clutch and pries it open carefully. She can't spill a lot or it won't work for as long as she needs it to. With the height and build this guy is, it shouldn't take much anyway._

 _She swipes the powder just under her nose and eyes herself in the mirror. In this lighting there is a faint shimmer of white, but outside, under the night sky, it wouldn't be noticeable._

 _It takes all of one minute for her to enter and exit the bathroom and make her way to the side door of the restaurant. She opens the door, ready to round the corner and catch her suspect._

 _A flash of silver diverts her attention and her stomach sinks._

 _She has only a few seconds to take in the sight of her suspect sprawled on the floor of the alley, blood seeping into the fabric of his white button-down, before she's backed up against the brick wall with something cold and hard digging into her sternum. She flinches at the sudden contact with metal and suppresses a shudder as goosebumps spread over her chest._

 _Dark eyes blaze beneath dark brows and silver hair blows wildly across his face._

" _Haru?"_

 _It takes her three seconds to realize he's got the barrel of a gun against her, and a swift glance to see specifically, a silencer._

 _Damn. He'd killed her suspect. Now how was she supposed to interrogate the guy?_

 _It takes two seconds for his eyes to widen in recognition._

" _Well, fuck," Haru breathes, head tilting to one side. "What'm I supposed to do with you, Elie?"_

 _And it takes one second for her to wrap her fingers in the front of his shirt and pull his mouth to hers._

 _He definitely wasn't expecting that._

 _She grins inwardly at the sound of a sharp inhale. He's rigid against her, neck craned to bridge the gap that the gun between them creates, but it doesn't last. She can feel it when he relaxes and when his grip on the gun goes slack._

 _She pulls back from him, grabs his wrist, and uses his sleeve to wipe the excess powder from beneath her nose. She'd have to wait until she got back to wash it away completely and get the tissue out._

" _Put the safety on," she tells him._

" _It's already on," he answers, taking a step away from her._

 _She flicks open her clutch and holds it out to him, "Take it apart and put it in here."_

 _She watches his fingers fly with practiced expertise as he disassembles the body, silencer and magazine, and drops them in._

 _He's done this before. Enough to not need any direction. Enough he didn't even need to look._

 _He'd been staring at her the whole time._

 _Impressive._

 _She goes to ask him how he knows how to do that, but freezes at the sound of voices. Even if it isn't her that killed this guy, if she's questioned there's no way the cops won't find out who she is and what she's done if they dig deep enough, and she's not willing to take that risk. Not when she's so close._

 _They needed to get out of there._

 _And if she had any hope of figuring out whether the dead guy was her mother's killer or not…she'd need to bring Haru with her._

" _Fuck," she growls, "c'mon. Follow me."_

 _She pulls him through a series of interconnected alleys behind various restaurants and adjoining buildings until she pushes through an old, wooden door into a nearly empty parking lot. It's dark and abandoned and definitely not the safest place to be at night, but that's kind of the point._

 _She unlocks the doors, "Get in and put on your seatbelt."_

 _He complies._

 _She slides into the driver's seat and raps her forehead against the wheel a few times before starting up the engine and pulling out onto the street. The lamp posts are dim, a few are broken, and she winds her way through back streets before merging onto the highway._

" _Okay," she breathes, knuckles white on the steering wheel._

 _She glances over at Haru._

 _He doesn't look to be much bigger than her original target, but he's younger and it doesn't take a genius to notice the muscle he's got. She won't have as much time as she'd like before he's in control of his actions again._

 _He's still in his seat, unmoving, eyes forward, waiting for orders._

 _Weird. The others would usually make crude remarks or try to strike a conversation and she'd have to tell them to shut up. There was no way he was naturally quiet like this…this was training or some sort of self defense._

 _This guy she wouldn't be able to interrogate normally…she was going to have to bring him back to her room._

" _Fuck," she whispers._

" _You okay?"_

 _Her eyes flicker over and widen slightly at the sincerity of his question. His eyes are dark. Dark enough that they stare right through her. It's unsettling and makes her stomach flip._

 _Seriously. Who the hell was this guy?_

" _I'm fine," she answers, looking back to the road._

" _Liar."_

 _She can_ hear _the smirk in his voice._

 _She sizes him up briefly before looking away to change lanes. She could talk to him about anything, it's not like he'd remember anyway._

" _Just stressed," she relents, deflating slightly._

" _Doesn't seem like that's all it is." His voice is soft and she avoids looking back over at him, because he's right._

 _She's exhausted._

 _She's exhausted and not just because it's been a long day that's far from over._

 _She's tired of it. She's tired of hunting and not finding. She's tired of digging into article after article, suicide after suicide, watching these families being torn apart the way hers was._

 _She's tired of being lonely._

 _There's not much keeping her going anymore at this point._

" _Nothing important," she tells him, moving to take the next exit. This late at night and moving against the flow of regular traffic puts only a few cars around her as she makes the last few twists and turns into a hotel parking lot._

 _She pulls into her usual spot._

" _Get out and follow me."_

 _She undoes the clasp and thumbs the gun pieces out of the way to pull her key card from her clutch. The light blinks green as she swipes it and she yanks the door open._

 _Haru walks ahead of her into the stairwell._

 _His footsteps echo hers as they climb the flights of stairs to the third floor. Her room isn't far from there, which she's especially grateful for tonight._

 _She inserts her card into the lock with 173 printed on it. The paint from the three is gone but she can still see the outline etched into the metal._

 _She leans into the door and lets Haru in first._

" _Sit cross legged on the bed."_

 _Again, he complies._

" _Do you have any other weapons on you?" she asks._

 _He nods, "There's a pistol strapped to my left ankle."_

" _Take it off, remove the bullets, and put them on the bedside table." She grunts a little as she pulls a large bundle of rope from the front closet. Thin and strong. Should do the job._

 _She hears the clinking of metal as he follows her orders._

" _Shirt off," she mumbles._

" _Trying to get me naked are you?"_

 _He's smirking at her, playfully, a glint in his eyes._

 _Her stomach drops. Has it worn off already?_

 _No. He'd definitely be making a break for it if it had._

 _Regardless, she needed to move quickly._

" _Easier to tie you up if there isn't fabric in the way," she offers, climbing onto the bed and pulling his wrists behind his back. She makes quick work of them with the rope._

" _Move to kneeling."_

 _He does._

 _She binds his ankles—tight enough she can see his skin start to fold slightly, but not enough to cut off his circulation. She then binds his tied hands to his tied ankles with enough slack that he can sit._

" _Sit."_

 _He does so with his knees bent to his chest._

 _She can see the muscles of his arms strain beneath his skin. They're pulled taut from the position he's in. Kneeling would probably be more comfortable for his arms, lying on his side would be the same. Comfort wasn't something she was entirely concerned about at the moment, however._

 _She pulls up her desk chair to the foot of the bed and takes a seat across from him. Finally sitting down herself she undoes the clasps of her heels, slips them off, and frees her hair from the twists of bobby-pins._

 _Oh…right._

 _She stands and walks over to the bathroom, flicking the light on. With practiced grace, she lathers up her hands, washes around her mouth, and pulls the tissue from her nose with tweezers and a faint, "Ow."_

 _She relaxes as she exits the bathroom and moves back to the chair, sinking into its cushions._

" _What am I gunna do with you…" she breathes, rubbing her face with her free hand and covering her eyes with her palm._

" _Wasn't that_ my _question?"_

 _She peers at him through her fingers._

 _She watches as he blinks and takes in the sight of his ankles, then his arms as they strain against the rope._

 _Yeah, he's definitely back._

 _He rolls his neck and lets out a low groan, "Damn, that memory loss is the worst."_

 _She raises a brow, "This happen to you before?"_

 _He ignores her._

" _Y'know, if you wanted to tie me up on your bed all ya had to do was ask," his teeth flash at her, but there's nothing behind the comment. She can tell._

 _Not that he knows that._

 _In one fluid movement, she rises from the cushions and leans forward, hands braced on the bed. His eyes widen a fraction when she pulls her knees up and begins to crawl. She stops just as the bare skin of her chest brushes his knees._

 _She can see him swallow again._

" _Where's your bite, babe?" she grins, smirking at the blank look on his face._

" _Uh…" he blinks at her._

 _She moves in closer, lips coming to brush at the skin of his neck, "I guess I can if you won't."_

 _She hears a slight whine come from his throat and she pulls back, returning to her chair and leaving him stunned. The grin over her features makes her cheeks hurt before it fades._

" _Wha…" he looks confused._

" _I'm not one to take advantage," she clarifies, gesturing to him, "even if you weren't tied up there's no way I'm gunna do anything like that to you."_

" _Didn't you kiss me though?" he smirks, teasing._

 _She raises a brow, "Yeah, cause you had a gun to my chest."_

 _He nods slightly, "Fair."_

 _They sit in silence for a minute._

" _So, are you gonna kill me?" he asks._

" _If I was gunna kill you, you'd be dead already and you wouldn't be here," she tells him. Only half that is a lie. She wouldn't kill him. She couldn't with good conscience. There's only one person she's intent on sucking the life from and she's not wasting the guilt on anyone else._

" _So why am I here then?" He shifts slightly, stretching the muscle spanning the length of his shoulders and rolling them. She can see the pulse of his jugular. It's quicker than she'd assume by the tone of his voice._

" _The guy you killed," she starts, leaning back into the springs, "why'd you kill him?"_

 _Haru smirks, "What's it to you?"_

 _She glances around the room with a raised brow and gestures to his bindings, "Do you think you're really in a position to ask questions right now?"_

" _Since I'm the one with the information you want, yeah. I do." He tilts his chin up slightly, trying to sit tall despite his restrictions. His eyes are mischievous. Burning black._

" _What's stopping me from lying to you?" she counters, crossing her arms over her chest._

 _He shrugs as best he can, "Nothing, I guess."_

" _I could just turn you in, let the cops deal with you if you don't answer my questions," she glares, crossing one leg over the other._

" _Somethin' tells me you won't," he lures._

 _She doesn't like his tone._

 _She keeps her face still and pulls one side of her mouth up slightly. "And why's that?"_

"' _cause you don't wanna get caught either, sweetheart," he says simply._

 _She raises a brow, "I'm the one who caught you having killed a guy."_

 _His smirk widens into a full-blown, toothy grin, "Why'd you catch me?"_

 _She blinks and her stomach plummets. She_ really _doesn't like the tone of his voice or the look on his face. "What do you mean?"_

" _You know exactly what I mean."_

 _She says nothing.  
_

" _Why were you out there in the first place?" he questions, head tilting to one side. He seems to mull over the question himself and doesn't wait for her to answer. "Actually…no. That's not my point."_

" _What's your point then?"_

" _You're acting like you've got all the power, when you really don't," he rolls his shoulders again and winces._

" _I dunno, Haru," she sighs, "you're tied up in my room and it doesn't look like you'll be going anywhere anytime soon."_

" _You drugged me," he says, bluntly._

 _She blinks, "So?"_

" _Which means, you already had the drugs on you, and people up here aren't just walking around with Devil's Breath." The cocky smirk on his face as he says the name is blinding and she can hear his unspoken word._

 _Gotchya._

 _Fuck._

 _His eyes dart to the flicker of emotion on her face and she refuses to swallow reflexively._

" _I mean…fucking Christ, Elie," he laughs slightly, "how the hell did you even get your hands on that scary-ass shit anyway?" The question is rhetorical. She knows that. He isn't done talking._

" _I'm guessing you weren't planning to use it on me since you weren't expecting to run into me," he continues, the black of his iris' flashing. "And since you're asking about_ him _, I'd guess he was your target. This wasn't a coincidence. You planned all this out."_

 _She didn't like this. She didn't like this at all._

" _Which means you were after him too," he concludes._

 _This wasn't okay. He was flustering her._

" _Even if you were right," she starts, voice miraculously even, "the proof of what you've done is currently splattered all over the back alley of a pretty high-end restaurant, and all you've got on me is speculation. You can't do anything to me."_

" _Doesn't mean you'll want cops digging into your personal life."_

 _She rubs her narrowed eyes and lets out a long sigh. He wasn't wrong, that was the annoying part. He knew too much about her, she should've dosed him again when she'd had the chance, but it was too late for that now._

 _She needed to get some control back._

" _Looks like we're stuck with each other then," she pulls her legs under her, off to one side so the skirt of her dress was still covering her and leans on the armrest, jaw against a closed fist._

" _What makes you say that?" He blinks at her._

" _We're at an impasse," she states simply. "I could turn you over to the cops, but that may potentially put me in a situation I'd rather not be in."_

 _He seems to consider that and waits for her to continue._

" _I also can't do that because you were the last person to see him and I need answers from you," she mutters to herself, scratching under her jaw, "which you aren't willing to give freely."_

 _She lets out a long sigh._

" _So here's the deal," she stands from her chair and shuffles over to one of the dresser drawers. "I'll hide you from the cops, and you tell me everything you know about the guy you killed. Including why you killed him in the first place." She pushes a few rolls of socks to the side to pull out a switchblade._

" _And if I refuse?" he challenges. For the first time there's nothing playful on his features. He's dead serious._

" _You don't want to refuse," she says, walking over to him, "because without me you'll be in jail and I'll be gone before you can say 'uncle.'"_

" _What keeps you from killing me after I tell you everything?" he asks, watching as she flicks the knife open and comes to stand in front of him._

" _I don't kill people," she says bluntly._

" _But you hunt them." It's both a statement and an invitation to elaborate._

" _There's only one person I intend on killing," she says softly, flicking at the edge of the blade with her thumb, "so be glad it's not you."_

 _He seems to accept her statement._

" _So," she presses, "do we have a deal?"_

 _She meets his gaze head on, unblinking, back straight. She's more annoyed with him than scared and he needs to know that about her._

 _Hell, she needs to remember that about_ herself _._

" _I'd shake your hand," he glances over his shoulder in the general direction of his bound wrists, "but I can't."_

 _With one last flick to the blade, she moves in to pull his arms away from his back and grab the rope that binds his hands to his ankles. With a few quick movements he's stretching his legs out in front of him with a pleasant hum vibrating through his nose._

 _When she moves to get under the covers of the bed he's not sitting on, he sounds a little desperate, "Whoa, wait, you're not going to untie me?"_

 _She shakes her head at him as she reaches for the bedside lamp switch, "No. Those come off when you've answered my questions."_

" _What makes you think I won't?" he asks._

" _Never thought you wouldn't I'm just too tired to listen right now," she flicks the light off and rolls over. "That and the fact I just feel like it 'cause I know it'll bug you and you enjoyed picking at my psyche a bit too much for my liking."_

 _She relaxes into the pillows and after a few minutes, her ears pick up the sound of rustling and soft grunting. A few muffled curses escape Haru's lips as he moves around on his bed—she assumes he's trying to get under the covers._

 _He finally breaks the silence just as she's about to pass out._

" _You may not be willing to kill me, but you don't know me at all. I could very well kill you when you least expect it, y'know." His tone isn't playful, but she can tell he's just trying to pick a fight with her._

 _The corners of her mouth turn up slightly._

" _Well, if you did, you'd be out of a safe place and more likely than not end up on trial for murder, so I doubt you'll do that," she says simply, pulling the comforter over her shoulder and tucking it under her chin._

 _He says nothing to that and she can hear his breathing even out slightly._

" _Besides," she whispers, "if you killed me I'd be free._

" _So I don't really care."_

 _She says it softly enough that if he were sleeping it wouldn't have woken him up._

 _But if the lack of breathing other than hers is any indication…he'd definitely heard her._

—

It took her a minute to realize the covers pulled up to her chin weren't a memory, she wasn't in a hotel room with a guy tied up next to her, and that she was Lucy. Not Elie.

No. She was in her room, lights off, and her mouth was very, very dry.

There was a glass of water on her bedside table.

She sat up and downed half of it gratefully before standing and shuffling out into the hall and back toward her living room.

How long had she been out for?

She peered around the corner to just see boxes and couches. Seeing it was empty, she listened for Gray.

The photos were also gone from the floor where they'd scattered.

Gray'd cleaned them up?

She could hear some rustling coming from the kitchen and clinking of glass.

She walked into the kitchen, finishing off the glass of water, "Did you put all the pictures back in the photo album?"

Gray had her dishwasher open and a stack of plates in his hands. "Yeah," he slid them into place in one of the cupboards.

"You didn't have to do that," she set her glass down on the island.

"I know," he answered, sliding the now empty rack back in and closing the washer, "but I wasn't gunna just leave and if I'm here I may as well be useful."

"Oh, well how kind of you," she drawled, pulling out a stool and sitting.

Silence fell over them for a few minutes before Gray broke it.

"What did you remember?" he asked, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed.

Lucy twirled the silver band on her right ring finger. It'd only been there a week, so it still felt foreign. It shouldn't be on there in the first place. It should still be on her mother. Her living, breathing mother.

She ran her fingers through her hair, "That I was searching for the man who killed my mother and ran into Natsu at one of my stakeouts."

Gray hummed in response.

"Do I just not get a mom or something?" she breathed, laughing slightly. "I mean seriously. What's the point of remembering stuff like this if history just repeats itself?" She swallowed the thickness in the back of her throat.

It was meant to be rhetorical, but she and Gray didn't really _do_ rhetorical.

"I think stuff like this happens so history eventually _stops_ repeating itself, Lucy." Gray pushed off the counter and came to sit opposite her at the island.

"We're human," he starts, grabbing her empty glass and twirling it in his hands, "we make mistakes all the time. It's how we learn."

"How does me losing my mother _twice_ help me learn anything?" Lucy spat, eyes flickering away from Gray.

"Maybe it's not your lesson to learn," he said gently. "Maybe there's something your mother had to tackle again in a way that was different than last time."

Lucy shook her head, "And the only way to do so was by killing herself? I don't think so."

"Lucy, why do you think we're here? Why do you think we come back again and again?" Gray looked at her, dark eyes flickering over her face, reading her. He was looking for a specific answer from her. He was trying to make a point.

She waited.

"We are bonded to remember, and to forgive," he continues, "that's what we know about soul-bonded pairs. But the bonded are no different than anyone else other than the fact that we _remember_."

She looked back to Gray, a fresh set of tears in her eyes.

"We remember, Lucy, because sometimes that's the only way we can change. Sometimes that's the only way we can atone," he stood from his spot and rounded the island to stand in front of her.

"And sometimes that's the only way we can forgive," he whispered. "Both others… _and_ ourselves for our mistakes."

Lucy shook her head, hands coming up to cover her face.

"But it's so hard," her voice cracked.

"I know," arms were around her again, "believe me, I know."

"I'm so tired, Gray," she breathed, pressing her forehead into his chest. "This is exhausting…I just want it to stop."

"It will," he mumbled. "It may not feel like it, but the worst will be over before you know it."

"I can't," she gripped the back of his shirt, surprised she hadn't stretched it out already. "I can't, Gray."

There was silence for a few moments before Gray started talking again.

"I can't tell you how many times in both of my lives, people have sacrificed themselves to protect me," he said softly, "and how many times I almost gave up because of the guilt."

Lucy perked up at that. Gray never talked about his past. Never.

"But I got it hammered into my head finally to live for those who love you," she heard the smile in his voice. "To honour the people who make you who you are whether they die or not."

Hands on her shoulders pushed her back until she was looking at him. "If anyone can do this, it's you, Luce," Gray smiled. "You're one of the strongest people I know. Both in this life, and in your last one."

She blinked a few times to clear her vision, keeping the tears in this time. She was tired of crying. Her eyes hurt. "Gray?" she looked up at him and he raised a brow expectantly.

She was curious.

"You said you remembered me when you first met me," she reiterated, and he nodded.

"So how come I'm not remembering anything about you?" she asked, head now to one side.

Gray smiled, "Because you never met me or saw me. So you wouldn't remember me."

Lucy huffed, wrapping her arms around her stomach, "Well that doesn't seem fair." She raised a brow, "How does that even work then anyway?"

Gray scratched the back of his neck, "Well, I'd seen you a few times from a distance. But the main memory I have of you…" he trailed off.

She waited.

He looked down at her.

"The main memory I have of you, was just after he'd killed you."

Her heart ached in her chest at the mention of her death and her hand flew to clutch at it.

"You okay?" Gray asked, concerned. "You keep doing that…"

Lucy nodded, smiling sadly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just…anytime someone mentions me dying, or anytime I think about… _him_ , I can feel that bullet going through me."

"Lucy…"

"It's okay," she forced her smile wider, "I'll get used to it."

"You don't have to smile like that."

She let it fade.

"It hurts," she breathed.

"I know," his voice was low. "It's not going to be easy."

He tilted her chin up.

"But you're not alone," he smiles. "You may feel like you are, but remember that you're not. You've got family at the station, Lucy. Never forget that."

She nodded, closing her eyes and breathing deep.

"How am I even supposed to work through this with him?" she asked, finally. "I can barely look at him without hurting."

Gray pulled a stool out to slide underneath him. "You do what you can. You may not be able to spend a lot of time with him right now, but it gets easier."

"Is that what you did?" she looked at him with a slight smirk on her face.

Lucy didn't miss the slight flush to his cheeks as he scratched the back of his neck. "Uh…actually…"

Oh this was gunna be good.

"I may or may not have pulled a gun on her," he confessed, "…in the middle of the precinct."

Lucy's eyes widened and she couldn't control the grin that broke over her face, "No."

"Yeah," he laughed, shakily. "Not my best moment, though in my defense the memory I relived involved me with a gun…so it was a reflex."

Lucy shook her head, snickering to herself.

"She'd apologized so many times to me in that moment they blended together until I couldn't understand her," he continued. "We worked through our stuff pretty quickly, actually. It was the memories of our lives until that moment and, for me, the ones after she died that we had to work through."

Lucy tilted her head to one side in question and Gray complied.

"You get a lot of cases where the bonded and the marked have to forgive each other for the pain inflicted, right?" Again, the question was rhetorical so she just stayed silent. "But that isn't always it. The events of her past that made her who she was affected her, and the same with me. Our childhoods…those were the experiences we needed to remember and work through, and because they were so similar, we could really understand and help each other. I believe we were bonded because of that.

"So I may not know exactly what it is you're going through because I haven't experienced anything like what you're dealing with," he ran a hand through his hair, "but I know the pain of reliving memories and history repeating itself and being left alone."

Lucy nodded and squeezed Gray's fingers when he grabbed her hand.

"I'd always been alone, Lucy," his voice was soft and it broke a little. "People would leave, or die, or send me away and any time I'd finally have _something_ that I thought would stick, it would get ripped away from me. Even Natsu."

Lucy's head snapped up at that.

"In our last life I mean," he clarified. "I lost him too."

Her brow furrowed at that comment and she opened her mouth to ask what he meant when his phone went off.

His hand dropped from hers as he stood from his chair to answer the call and pace around in the kitchen. She heard a low voice muttering through the phone and a few noises of agreement from Gray before he hung up.

"I gotta go," he moved quickly, grabbing his jacket and keys from one of the hooks by her front door. "There's another girl down at the station who was cornered last night."

Lucy stood from her stool and followed him over to the front, "The guy that shot Natsu?"

Gray nodded, "Yeah. That's the one."

"What's he even doing anyway?" she wondered, moving to unlock the door as Gray shoved an arm through one of his sleeves.

"We're not sure yet. All we know is he's armed, dangerous, and is looking for someone," he zipped up his jacket and pulled the lapels up around his neck. "We gotta find him before he finds her…and because he shot Natsu."

Lucy snickered, "I love how Natsu's an afterthought."

Gray chuckled as Lucy opened the door and he took a step out.

He paused and turned back to her.

"I know what you've been through is difficult," he said. "More than that, I know it's unbearable and more than you should ever have to go through…"

Lucy looked away.

"But don't discount Natsu because what you remember and what you see in that file doesn't add up. Try not to jump to conclusions before you have all the facts, and don't always trust what you read."

Lucy opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off.

"It's hard, I know," he bit his lower lip slightly, "nearly impossible. But I'm asking you to try."

She sighed.

"He really is a good guy, Lucy," Gray smiled. "A total dork sometimes, and super annoying. But a good guy."

Lucy rolled her eyes and waved him off, "Fine."

Gray took a few more steps down the hall before glancing back over his shoulder. "Oh, don't tell him I said that!" he called.

Lucy just laughed and shut her door.

With her apartment now quiet, she was eerily aware of how alone she was again. She could hear her blood rushing in her ears with each beat in her chest. Her ears rang and her head ached.

She needed to be doing something.

Yeah, she'd told Gray she'd give Natsu a chance, but that didn't mean she had to do it right away. She'd do it at some point after she was done being angry.

For now she had an article to write.

A glance outside let her know that it was nighttime, and a look at the clock told her she'd slept for about an hour. It was annoying how quickly the sun was setting nowadays, though that was to be expected since winter was coming up fast.

She needed to find out more about her mom, but there was no way she was going into the station. Not when Natsu was there. Not today. Maybe tomorrow.

It was Saturday…which meant her office was closed and everyone was probably home by now.

She eyed her lanyard hanging on its hook right next to her door.

There was no way she was staying here. She was going stir crazy. There was also no way in hell she was going to let Jason tell her mother's story. No fucking way.

She grabbed her wallet and keys, shrugged on her jacket and slipped out her door.

Maybe her boss hadn't suspended her access to the digital records yet.

It was worth a try.

* * *

 _Again. Thank you so much. Let me know what you're thinking! I'm excited to see._

 _-xb_


	4. Rule 2

_**A/N:** You guys have been so patient. __Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy this chap. It's crazy long omg._

* * *

 _Rule #2: If you run into the person who effectively ended your most recent past life,  
_ _you will recover the memories of said life and your death._

* * *

 _She'd been alone for years._

 _Even while surrounded by other kids in foster homes, she'd been alone. If anything, that had been worse than when she was on her own. She didn't have to feel left out or used while walking home from school or running errands by herself. She didn't have to feel forgotten._

 _After getting out, sure, she felt less lonely, but that didn't change that she hadn't really had any extended one-on-one interaction—not involving interrogation—in a really long time._

 _So the fact that she'll have Haru around for who knows how long…_

 _She's not quite sure how to feel about that._

 _For the first time…she has someone who's going to be there when she opens the door to her room._

 _Her heart clenches involuntarily at the thought._

 _She swallows that feeling and juggles the shopping bags into one hand and arm to free up the one holding her keycard. There's a slight beep as the light blinks green and she shuffles her way in the door. It closes on its own behind her._

 _With a huff, she heads toward her desk but stops at the sight of Haru there._

 _He's sitting in her chair, wrists and ankles still bound, reading one of her old textbooks. The stack of white paper next to it tells her right away which one it is._

 _She'd totally bullshitted that paper._

 _She doesn't know whether she should be defensive of her writing and personal possessions, or impressed that he'd somehow managed to get to her desk and find a way to maneuver the book and essay so he could actually read it._

 _"Y'know," she starts, electing to set the groceries on the TV stand instead, "it's impolite to go through people's things without asking."_

 _His head tilts slightly in her direction but his eyes stay focused on the words in front of him, "And it's impolite to keep people tied up but you don't see me complaining now, do ya?"_

 _She rolls her eyes to herself, "One of the rare times you actually shut up about it."_

 _He grins and turns, meeting her gaze before glancing back to her paper, "I wouldn't have pegged you for the spiritual type."_

 _She sighs, "I'm not. I figured out what my teacher wanted and gave it to him."_

 _Haru raises an eyebrow suggestively._

 _"Oh, get your head outta the gutter, perv," she sets the bag with groceries on the floor and kneels in front of the mini-fridge. "All my classes were online. The lectures were recorded and posted, so I never met my teachers."_

 _He blinks at her before looking to the various framed certificates on the walls, "Seriously?"_

 _She nods, "Seriously."_

 _"Well that's ironic," he snickers, pushing away from the desk and leaning back in the chair as much as he could around his bound hands._

 _She narrows her eyes at him, "What do you mean?"_

 _"You have degrees in programs having everything to do with people and their behavior, that you got without interacting with people," he laughs lightly to himself. "You don't find that funny?"_

 _She shrugs, opens the fridge door, and starts unloading, "I guess I see your point. I just figured I'd save human interaction for where it counted."_

 _"Which was when?" he leans forward slightly. His pseudo-flirtatious demeanour is irritatingly endearing. He's a walking oxymoron._

 _She can work with that._

 _"If you ever find out, you'll be halfway to suffocating between my thighs," she lures, eyes flashing at him. "And not in a good way."_

 _That shut him up alright. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, Haru falls back in his chair, shaking his head. She waits for a retort, but he's apparently lost his ability to speak._

 _Seriously. He's all bark and no bite. It's adorable really._

 _She finishes unloading the rest of the food and bunches the plastic bag into a wad before grabbing the remaining one from the drug store. She looks back over to Haru, head bowed, a slight smile on his face._

 _"C'mon."_

 _He seems to snap out of…wherever it is he is and looks up at her, "What?"_

 _She gestures toward the bathroom with a head tilt. "Grey is too conspicuous, we gotta change that."_

 _"I can't walk," he protests, whining a little. He raises his ankles and lets them drop uselessly back to the carpet with a wince. He rubs them together. He'd managed to get his socks off at some point and she can see where the rope is rubbing the skin raw._

 _She feels bad. But not too bad._

 _"You found your way to the desk," she slips into the bathroom and raises her voice slightly, "you're smart! You'll figure it out!"_

 _She pulls hair dye, a comb, and a pair of scissors from the bag and sets them on the counter. Going with black seemed like her best bet, any other colour wouldn't react as well with the silver underneath._

 _There's a slight crash and she peers around the corner to see Haru's cheek mashed on the floor, chair knocked over behind him, with bent knees now pushing him forward bit by bit down the carpet. Like an inchworm._

 _If an inchworm had its hands tied behind its back and was giving itself rug-burn on its face._

 _It's too funny._

 _She can't stop laughing._

 _"You could help me y'know," he mumbles, looking up at her. Is he…pouting?_

 _She laughs harder._

 _He looks so adorable and pathetic as he rolls onto his back and tries to move using his heels and hands._

 _It doesn't work._

 _She can't breathe by the time he twists onto his side and slithers his way to the bathroom—she wipes tears from the corners of her eyes. Her stomach hurts, her face is burning and she's pretty sure her brain has been deprived of oxygen for at least five minutes._

 _So what if she's exaggerating. Who gives a fuck._

 _With a huff, Haru collapses in front of her and she kneels to get in close to his reddened face. "This could all end y'know if you just tell me why you were after that guy."_

 _His eyes narrow, but the playful pout doesn't disappear, "Like I'm gonna tell you_ now _."_

 _Her smile is instant as she helps Haru to right himself and eventually stand up. It takes a few hops to get him to the toilet seat, but he eventually gets situated, back to the mirror._

 _She runs her fingers through the silvery strands, parting it here and there to check for roots. Freshly dyed hair down to the root could be bad. That would_ look _like he was trying to hide._

 _Which he was, but that wasn't the point._

 _"You need a haircut," she mumbles to herself._

 _"No I don't," he glares up at her._

 _She eyes him, a little irritated, "You don't know who could've seen you. Long silver hair is what they're looking for. You need it cut and dyed. You know you do."_

 _The sigh he lets out is so juvenile, she can't help but giggle._

 _She grabs the hair dye from the counter and pulls the two bottles and the plastic gloves from the box._

 _"What colour did you get?" he asks, eyeing the bottle in her hand. She sets it down and grabs an empty black plastic bowl. The dye is a milky white as she squeezes the first thing of dye in._

 _"Black," she sets the bowl on the back of the toilet and grabs a dye brush from the drugstore bag. "I figured it'd be the easiest colour to go with since it's already silver."_

 _"It doesn't look black," he eyes the goop and she smiles._

 _"It takes a bit for the chemical reaction to kick in, it won't start to look black for awhile."_

 _Haru nods as she grabs hair clips from a drawer and uses the pointed end of the dye brush to part his hair and pin half atop his head. It comes down just between his shoulder blades._

 _It really is beautiful._

 _With a bit more rummaging, she's ready, brush thoroughly doused in dye. It's only once she pulls on the plastic gloves that she pauses._

 _"You ready?" she asks softly, and kicks herself. Whether or not he is, this has to happen._

 _"Do it."_

 _From behind him, she can see his jaw work. His tone feigns indifference, but she can see his muscle move beneath the bare skin of his neck and shoulders as it tenses._

 _He doesn't want this any more than she does._

 _She grabs a towel from the overhead rack on the wall, smooths it over his shoulders, and secures the two ends at the front with a hair clip._

 _She squeezes in the second bottle, gives it a thorough mix, and she gets to work._

 _It's tedious, going thin layer by thin layer. She needs to leave about two millimetres of silver—thank god it looks blonde at the root—so at a glance it won't look freshly dyed. The amount of precision hurts her neck and she finds herself rolling her shoulders and breaking away once in awhile to get some fresh air._

 _She gets about two thirds through when the reaction starts to take place and the colour starts to change._

 _But it doesn't go darker._

 _"What the fuck," she mumbles to herself, setting the dye down and pulling up chunks of his hair. The box said black…_

 _"What?" he glances over his shoulder and she meets his eyes. She pulls back from him and grabs the now empty box._

 _The box definitely said black._

 _"This company fucked up," she says, miffed. "Factory mistake or somethin'."_

 _"Elie…" Haru says lowly. "What're you talking about?"_

 _"Uh," she sighs and wipes a thin layer of sweat from her brow with her forearm, "your hair's pink."_

 _He blinks at her._

 _"My hair is what?"_

 _With that he whirls around on the toilet, surprisingly not losing his balance, and twists his head this way and that to get a look at the very bright colour currently soaking into his skull._

 _"Oh my god," he breathes, gawking._

 _"Fuck," she sighs, "this is bad. Even silver is better than pink. Pink is so out there. People remember pink. Fuck, fuck, fu—"_

 _"I love it."_

 _She freezes, and now it's_ her _turn to stare at him, speechless._

 _"It's gunna be so awesome, oh my god," the grin on his face is blinding and his eyes dart back to hers, "keep going!"_

 _She can't find words._

 _So she just picks up the bowl and finishes up the rest._

 _When she's finally done and dumps everything into a black trash bag she'd grabbed from the other room, she hops up on the bathroom counter and wedges her way into the corner furthest from him._

 _"So how long is this in for?" he asks, still twisting his head to try and get a good look._

 _"Usually about twenty," she tells him, crossing her arms and legs, "but for you I'd prefer twenty-five or thirty."_

 _He nods absently._

 _"Why're you asking anyway? I thought you'd dyed your hair a few days ago," she raises an eyebrow and his gaze darts from his reflection over to her._

 _"Oh…" there's a slight flush that blooms on his cheeks, much to her amusement, "I was kinda drunk when that happened so…I don't really remember."_

 _She just stares at him._

 _How in the world is this guy…this blushing, cocky,_ dork _, the same suave, charismatic, self-assured killer from the night before?_

 _It's unsettling._

 _"So," he starts, a slight smirk on his face, "philosophy, huh?"_

 _She groans and rolls her eyes._

 _"Didn't take you for a romantic, Elie," he lures, leaning into the back of the toilet._

 _"I'm not," she says, voice sharp._

 _"Your paper says otherwise," he argues, grin growing ever so wider._

 _She wants to smack it off his face._

 _"I simply reiterated and compared various case studies given to me by my professor," she states._

 _"So you don't believe in soulmates?" he asks, smug grin gone and a genuine curiosity in its place._

 _"One person you're meant to meet and get stuck with for the rest of your life?" The question comes out haughty, and she can't find it in her to correct her tone. "No."_

 _"Well when you put it_ that _way," Haru rolls his eyes with an ever-growing smile, "you make it sound like a bad thing."_

 _"The concept of soulmates originates from a person's inability to cope with the possibility that there is no greater meaning to life," she proclaims, leaning forward. "It's a concept that goes hand in hand with things like a higher power and all that jazz."_

 _Haru's smile falters and his eyebrows draw together. He looks inquisitive with a dash of pity._

 _She doesn't need his pity._

 _"So you don't believe in any higher purpose? Nothing like that?" he asks, all traces of teasing gone. His eyes are dark, unrelenting, scanning. They see way too much._

 _She looks away._

 _"I used to," she says softly, securing her crossed arms tighter over her chest. It was starting to ache, and she didn't like it._

 _"Why don't you anymore?"_

 _She glances over to him._

 _What was it? What was it about him that made her want to tell him everything? That made her feel like she could trust him? Tell him anything and he wouldn't judge. That he would understand her and accept her or even have gone through the same thing himself._

 _Was it just because he was there and convenient?_

 _She shakes her head. "Don't worry about it," the slight movement of him shifting and pulling against his binds draws her attention, "you're the one who needs to start talking anyway if you ever want your arms back."_

 _"If you tell me why you stopped believing, I'll tell you why I killed him."_

 _Her heart stutters in her chest as his gaze is fixed on her, steady. His chest rises and falls evenly despite the towel covering the most of it._

 _"There's only so much shit a girl can take before she starts losing faith," she nearly whispers, biting at the inside of her lower lip. "Seems all I can do is be alone, or used by people who want something from me before they throw me away."_

 _She doesn't miss the way he swallows at that last part._

 _"Believing only causes more pain," she continues, "because your hopes are up. So when more shit happens, you're left even lower than before."_

 _She looks over to him and she can feel the exhaustion on her face._

 _"It's just easier to give up and accept the worst," she lets out a breath and a pained smile before pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her thighs. Her chin finds its way to the dip between her raised legs and she relaxes into the position._

 _In her peripheral, she can see Haru mull over what she just said, and it seems he can only stare at the floor, blankly. She can feel the anxiety and anger rolling off him._

 _What's it to him, anyway?_

 _He eventually lets out a large gush of wind before sitting up straight again._

 _"I didn't mean to kill him," he confessed, staring at the floor. "I just wanted to get a few answers from him, but he resisted and gave me no choice."_

 _She cocked her head to one side._

 _"I wasn't prepared for that," he looks sheepish and would most likely be scratching the back of his neck if he could, "so honestly? If you hadn't come around I don't know what I would've done."_

 _She raises an eyebrow, "But you were going to kill me."_

 _He shakes his head, "Nah. There was no reason to kill you," he says sincerely. "Even more so now that you're actually helping me."_

 _Her heart is thudding._

 _"Thank you for that, by the way."_

 _Blood is deafening in her ears._

 _Lucky for her, the alarm goes off and she hops off the counter, shaking the feeling from her head until it fades from her chest._

 _What the fuck was that._

 _She silences the beeping of her phone and stands for a few seconds with her hands against the counter, eyeing the pair of scissors._

 _Fuck it._

 _She grabs them and quickly moves to kneel at Haru's feet, swiftly snipping at the rope and removing the binds. It's almost comical how easy it is to remove something that's impossible to get off if tied correctly._

 _She can hear a grateful moan come from Haru as he rubs his ankles together and then scratches at the irritated skin with his heels and toes. His breathing is a little uneven and he beams down at her._

 _He opens his mouth to talk but she cuts him off._

 _"C'mon, you've gotta lean back in the bathtub."_

 _With the use of his legs, he manages to get into a seated position on the floor outside of the tub with his head bowed back. She pulls on another glove, grabs the shower head she can detach, and stretches the hose as far as it can go._

 _She's got a few inches of leeway. It's enough to rinse out the dye._

 _He's silent as she sets the water to a lukewarm temperature and begins carding the fingers of her gloved hand through his hair. The water runs a bright pink and bursts with higher concentrations every time she squeezes._

 _His eyes are closed and his breathing hitches when her fingertips scrape and scratch along his scalp and the nape of his neck._

 _She shields his eyes from the water when she rinses his hairline, and does her best to keep any water from getting in his ears. Even when a small stream dyes a trail down his neck, he doesn't complain._

 _His head is heavy in her hands with her supporting him. The weight is comforting._

 _She shuts off the water and lets the shower-head drop into the tub and hang, it clangs against the metal of the faucet. One last squeeze rids Haru of another gush of water and she pulls the towel from his shoulders up to wrap up his hair and dry as much as she can without rubbing._

 _"Alright," she breathes, "time to cut."_

 _It's easier this time to get him back on the toilet seat, and she settles the now pink-stained towel over his shoulders again while absently finding a fine-toothed comb. It doesn't take long for her to run it through until all the knots are gone—there weren't very many to begin with. It's just nice to brush._

 _She grabs a discarded clip, sections off all the hair above his ears, and readies the scissors a few inches from the nape of his neck._

 _She pauses._

 _"It's gotta be short," she says softly._

 _After a few moments she hears him breathe in and his shoulders sink. "I know."_

 _She makes the first cut._

 _"So if you didn't mean to kill him," she trims at the ends on a diagonal to throw in a more natural, layered look, "then what did you want from him?"_

 _His head turns back toward her at the question and she has to pause to turn it back before resuming._

 _"I told you," she can see him clam up through his reflection in the mirror, "I was looking for answers."_

 _She tilts her head downward to get a better view at a different angle. The hair around his ears'll be tricky. "Yeah, but that doesn't tell me why you were after this guy."_

 _"Well," he glances at her, eyes training to the very corner of their socket, "why were_ you _after him?"_

 _"I already told you why," she brushes the long cut strands from his shoulders and readjusts the clip to pull down another chunk of hair._

 _"Actually, you didn't," he corrects, pointing at her, "you never told me anything. You were just trying to get answers out of me."_

 _She opened her mouth to protest, and then closed it._

 _Damn, he was right._

 _"Well," she combed a chunk out and away from his hair before snipping away, "if I'm asking you so many questions, what do you_ think _I was wanting to do?"_

 _"Well…judging by the drugs you had on you…nothing good." His tone is grave, any semblance of being playful is gone._

 _"You worried I'm gunna drug you again?" she asks, moving in front of him now to get at his bangs._

 _He glances up at her, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth to mask his evident discomfort. "Not at all."_

 _"Liar," she grins, snipping a few more layers._

 _He says nothing._

 _"Don't worry," she snickers, "I've only got one more dose that I'm saving."_

 _"For who?"_

 _Her jaw clenches and she swallows._

 _"For the man I'm going to kill."_

 _She can see the slight realization dawn on him as the few pieces she's laid out fall into place._

 _"You wanted to find out if the alley guy was the guy you're looking for," he mutters, and she nods in response._

 _"Small world," he laughs lightly to himself and she stares at him, curious, as she lets his final chunk of cut hair fall into place._

 _She raises an eyebrow in question and he just smiles._

 _"I was doing the same thing," he shrugs._

 _She grabs the hair dryer from its holder in the wall and gets it going, ruffling her fingers through the longer bits to disperse the air. The closer it gets to being dry, the brighter the colour is._

 _Oddly enough, it suits him._

 _They sit there in silence—well…technically she stands—until she deems his hair done. While he takes a few minutes to take a look at the colour and cut, she flurries around, cleaning everything up quicker than she'd thought possible._

 _"Yeah," he stands and leans into the mirror, stomach digging into the counter, "I really like it actually. The length isn't bad either."_

 _She smiles, "Good."_

 _Once everything is clean, she's back on her bed with Haru at her desk and she's almost afraid to voice the question she can't get out of her head. If she asks him and he doesn't know or the answer is yes…_

 _What would she do now?_

 _She needs to know._

 _"Was he the guy you were looking for, do you think?" she asks, peering as casually as possible over the book in front of her._

 _Haru spins in his chair to face her, a little confused before it clicks._

 _"Ah," he pulls one leg up under him and leaves the other one to dangle so he can swivel side to side. "No. I don't think so. This guy was after a single woman, not a widowed one."_

 _She blinks at him._

 _That little bit of information offered is_ everything _._

 _She stands from her spot on the bed, grabs the knife she'd left on the bedside table and flicks it open. At the metallic click, Haru's eyes dart back and forth between her face and the knife and though he's dialling it back, she can tell he's worried._

 _"I still want to know more," she tells him, grabbing a shoulder and pulling him forward, "like who the guy is you're really after and why."_

 _She pulls his wrists up his back a few inches and starts cutting at his binds._

 _"Because I have an idea, but I'm not going to pry," she says softly._

 _He looks at her, confused at her sudden change in tone and demeanour._

 _"But if you want me to keep on protecting you," the binds snap and she frees his wrists, "you're going to have to tell me eventually."_

 _She sets the knife down and offers him her hand. "Deal?"_

 _He eyes it._

 _"Only if you do the same."_

 _He takes it._

—

The streetlights flickered overhead, illuminating paths and roads that were unusually deserted for a Saturday. Wind whipped her hair around her face and whistled in her ears and a part of Lucy was creeped out by the lack of people.

The other part was glad nobody was around to see her walk into a pole.

"Ow," she growled, rubbing at her forehead. She'd spaced out for a second. _One. Second_. How the hell do you walk into a metal lamppost in the span of one second.

These memories seriously need to just get over and done with.

She breathed out and smiled as her building came into view. The parking lot was already empty, which meant Erik had also left early.

Good.

The front doors opened automatically and she was soon enveloped in the warmth that was glorious indoor heating. It'd only been a fifteen minute walk from her house, but fuck was wind annoying. Seriously. If wind chill wasn't a thing, weather would be bearable.

The lights were dimmed as she made her way down one of the first floor halls to her work. Her footsteps echoed off the walls and her breathing was a lot louder in the silence.

It'd been awhile since she was here alone.

She rummaged around in her jacket pockets, ignoring the clanging of her usual keys for the lanyard her boss had forgotten she still had. Her card may have been suspended access, but this copy of Erik's wouldn't.

The blinking green light proved her right.

She swiftly made her way inside, closing the door behind her, before running over to her boss' closed office door, opening that with her _own_ master key, and quickly typing her alarm code into the pad to disable the high pitched whine.

It didn't work. The little screen just continued beeping at her angrily.

What?

She typed it in again and it _again_ didn't work. She scrutinized the screen and numbers, typing in her pin one more time before realizing the alphabetical and numeric fonts were different and her stomach sank.

He'd changed the alarm system.

Fuck. She had about ten seconds to figure out what the hell she could—

There was a card reader on the side of the alarm's pin pad.

In a last ditch effort, Lucy swiped her boss' old card and watched as the screen blinked green, and the high whine disappeared.

She'd never been more grateful for silence.

Lucy breathed in deep and tapped her knuckles against the center of her chest until her heart slowed back to its usual resting pace. Of all the times for her boss to change the damn alarm system. He'd been talking about it sure, but why the hell didn't he tell her?

…cause she wasn't supposed to be here for another few days. Right. She didn't _need_ to know about the alarm change.

Still, shouldn't her passcode still be in there for when she opens the office?

Lucy shook her head. They were changing it in the first place due to the very thing she was doing right now. New codes were necessary. Erik had called a meeting about it after their firewall had been breached by someone trying to access soulmate files. Since then the security had been doubled on the computers, and their physical records had been put behind _another_ locked door while the investigation was going on.

They hadn't heard back about that recently.

Well…she hadn't anyway. Erik probably had by now but he was being a dick.

She sank into her boss' chair, wheeled up to his Mac and turned it on.

Since the alarm system was new and she didn't know the protocol as to what the company would do if the time limit passed or an invalid code was entered in, she'd need to be quick. Boot up the computer. Get into the files. Find her mother. Print her mother's records. Get out.

Simple…right?

If only. If only her mother had come _here_ for her sessions so she could get the hard copy of her notes, but no. Her mother was even secretive about which therapist she went to.

Her knee finally stopped bouncing when her boss' login screen popped up and input his password.

Fuck.

He'd changed that too.

Why couldn't this be easy?

She banged her head lightly against his desk. She needed to figure this out. There was just no way that she was going to find out about her mother through police records—even _if_ they were there she'd really rather find answers on her own—so this was her last option.

Goddamn. How the hell was she supposed to figure out what her boss' password was? He wasn't that creative so it could be literally anything. The last one was 'poison' for fuck's sake. When he'd told her why he'd chosen that as his password in the first place, Lucy had ended up listening to him rave on and on about his pet snake for at least half an hour. Like seriously, who keeps a snake with poisonous veno—

The grin that came over Lucy's face was _wide_.

She typed in "venom" and hit 'enter.'

"Booyah," she whispered to herself, hunching over slightly. Not the best choice of word, but hey, the only way someone would guess _that_ is if they knew the previous password, and since Lucy was the only one aside from Erik who did, she doubted anyone could hack in.

She launched _SoulBonded_ , and waited for the app to load. The familiar icon of two little blobs of tailed souls stitched together with red string bounced on the dock before the window popped up to input username and password.

Lucy was really starting to hate that word.

Especially since it seemed Erik had cleared all his usernames and passwords from his keychain and even _she_ was never given access to that info of his. This was a database connected solely to the head therapists and meant to be seen only by them, developed for that very reason.

No way she's getting in.

She sighed. "Worth a try at least," she muttered and reached for the power button.

 _Chnk_.

"Don't move."

Lucy froze at the sound of the voice. How the hell had someone gotten in here? She'd needed a key when she'd opened the door so how in the world—

Fuck. She hadn't locked it behind her.

"Hands where I can see 'em and back away from the computer."

She did as she was told. The voice was low, a little husky, and stirred a familiar feeling in her chest. It was annoying that she couldn't see him in the dark though—

"Lucy?"

She blinked, squinting her eyes. Why couldn't she just have night vision? Yeah, she wouldn't have a lot of use for it since she didn't break into offices and buildings on a regular basis, but on the off chance she did it would be nice.

"Who're you?" she asked, unimpressed.

She could make out the man's figure as he took a few steps forward. Lines of light seeped through the semi-closed blinds of the office window and curled around his face.

"Natsu?" she breathed.

She heard a faint click and a bit of rustling as he sheathed his gun back in its holster. "What're you doing?" he asked.

Lucy rolled back and reached for the power button, managing to actually power down the computer this time, "Just checking in on a few files for the boss. He called me to ask."

"Oh really?" his tone was leaking with sarcasm.

He knew something.

"Yeah," she continued, nonchalantly, rolling backward from the desk. "Just a bit of organizing. I had to come back after closing."

"Thought you weren't supposed to be here for another few days," her inflictor crossed his arms over his chest.

"Gray tell you that?" her eyes narrowed and she leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other.

"No," he raised an eyebrow and flashed a cocky grin, "your boss did."

Lucy's stomach sank.

"Yeah," the arrogance in his words was infuriating, "he called the station to come check on this place since there was something a little weird going on with the alarm—"

There was a faint click of static as Makarov's voice came through the radio at his side.

 _"Dragneel, status report."_

He unhooked the small speaker from his hip and clicked the button on the side. "All clear, boss. Nothing to worry about. Let Erik know for me? I gotta get home."

 _"Roger that."_

He hooked it back on his belt and turned back to Lucy.

"Aren't you supposed to be on desk duty?" she asked, annoyed. "What're you even doing here?"

Her Inflictor shrugged, "I was on my way home and I was closest. Figured it was easier for me to make a stop than someone else to go out of their way. Boss agreed."

She hated his sound logic.

"C'mon," he gestured to the door with his head, "you're not supposed to be here. Let's go."

"This is my work," Lucy countered, "and I'm not done."

"Lucy," he sighed, rubbing at his face with his hand, "you're trespassing right now and technically, I should bring you in. But I'm not. C'mon. I gotta get you home."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she growled.

"You don't have a choice," the slight hint of humor was fading from his eyes, "if you don't come with me I'll just have to take you into the station."

"Think they'll do anything to me?" she grinned, cockily. "They love me there. Makarov is basically like a father to me."

" _They_ may not," his tone flattened, "but _your_ boss might. I'd have to call him to report it."

Fuck.

"Fine," she snarled, standing from the chair, "get out so I can set the alarm."

He listened.

Thirty seconds later, she was speeding down the hall away from her inflictor intent on nearly running back to her apartment. She didn't want to remember anything else right now, and if seeing mere objects was enough to pull her into reliving hours of time together, having the actual reincarnation of Haru behind her would definitely be worse.

When they finally made it outside, he caught her arm when she turned to leave.

"We need to talk," he said firmly, and she twisted out of his hold on her. His grip wasn't strong, so it wasn't hard, he was more trying to get her attention than keep her from leaving.

"I don't want to talk to you," she snarled. "And since you won't let me _do my job,_ I want to go _home_."

"You don't think I know you're trying to find your mother's files?" he asked, taking a step closer. "Do you know how illegal that is? Hacking into private notes?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Lucy spun on her heel.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Seriously, that's gotta be the stupidest question to come out of his mouth.

"I'm doing the Irish Jig," she drawled, sarcastically, throwing a glance over her shoulder. "What the fuck does it _look_ like I'm doing? I'm walking home."

He was suddenly standing in front of her and gesturing to his cruiser parked a few feet away, "Get in. I'll drive you."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she moved to step around him but he adjusted himself to block her again.

"If you think I'm letting you walk around when there's a guy with a gun on the loose, you're crazy," he said, voice stern. His eyes were cold. Hard.

She hated it.

"What's it to you?" she sneered. "Not like you fucking cared about me _then_. Why would you now?"

This time when she sidestepped him, he let her.

It was his voice that stopped her.

"You don't think this is hard for me?"

His voice cracked and he was so soft she didn't think she'd heard him right and turned back to face him.

"What'd you say?"

He whirled on her. "I _said,_ " he enunciated, "do you not think this is hard for me? Remembering what happened?"

Her voice hardened, "Why would it be? You're not the one who got killed."

"No!" he nearly screamed, "I'm the one that did the _killing_!"

His voice echoed through the dead streets, bouncing off the buildings and ringing through her ears even after it had dissipated. A small hitch in his breathing drew her focus to the way his teeth were piercing down into his lower lip.

"Do you think I _want_ to remember these things?" he swallowed, moving toward her. "Do you think I _want_ to remember what happened between us when we both know the end result?"

Gray's voice echoed through her ears.

 _He has agonized over meeting you for as long as I've known him._

"It's fine if you don't want to come with me because you hate me," his voice was low, angry, "but you're still a civilian and there's someone out there hurting people and there's no fucking way I'm letting you get hurt again or die again on my watch." He walked past her toward the cruiser, "So get in the damned car."

It took her a minute for her body to respond again, and not long after she found herself in the passenger's seat with the car moving out onto the dead street soon after she'd given him her address. She'd offered directions but he'd just brushed her off. He knew his way around the neighbourhood after all.

She took the opportunity to look at him. _Really_ look.

He looked exhausted with his mouth pressed into a thin line. There were bags under his heavy lidded eyes, nearly hidden by wayward hair. A faint trace of dark stubble lined his jaw and neck, broken only by the two scars that marred his skin. They were thick and raw…

But oddly beautiful.

How'd he get them anyway?

She opened her mouth to ask but was cut off by a ringtone. A number filled the car's screen and her Inflictor mashed the green button with his phone.

"Hey, mom," his tone was gentle.

 _"Hi, honey,"_ a sweet voice came through the car speakers, _"have you heard from your brother at all?"_

His brow furrowed, _"No, not since yesterday, why?"_

A heavy sigh echoed from her and Lucy could hear her worry, _"We haven't heard from him either. He said he was staying at Wen's house last night, but when we called Wen to ask about it today they said he'd never gone there."_

Static filled the car as it took a moment for him to answer.

"So you're saying," he swallowed heavily, "that he's missing?"

 _"Yes, honey,"_ his mom exhaled, _"we don't know where he is. We've been driving around all day and calling but it just goes straight to voicemail."_

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" his grip on the steering wheel tightened, but his driving was still careful as he slowed the car down.

 _"We just wanted to make sure before coming to you about it,"_ she breathed, _"he's done this before."_

He seemed to perk up at that.

"Mom, I've got a place I'm going to check. I'll call you back, okay?"

 _"Alright, honey, I love you."_

"Love you too." He hung up the phone before stepping on the gas and spinning around in the opposite direction of her apartment. He glanced over at her briefly and Lucy flinched at the eye contact, "I'll have to take you home after."

"Of course," she answered immediately. "Family's first."

The silence now was full of anxiety instead of anger, and Lucy found that to be worse. With no sibling of her own, she'd have no idea what her Inflictor must be feeling right now in regards to his brother.

But whenever her mother didn't come home on time, she'd be worried.

So she had an idea.

There was no need for him to turn the siren on with the lack of people around and within minutes they pulled into an old, abandoned park. Natsu came to a stop haphazardly across two parking spaces and threw his door open before he'd even killed the engine.

"Come with me," he barked. "I'm not leaving you alone."

It was easier at this point to just comply. He didn't need any more anxiety than he'd already been feeling.

There was only one lamp to illuminate the playground. It hadn't been maintained in awhile. Chipping paint, a missing monkey bar, a rock climb with only one 'rock' left. It was dangerous and a wonder that it hadn't been taken down or sectioned off. Kids playing on that could be dangerous.

Her Inflictor payed no mind to the decayed state, climbing quickly up one of the rickety slides to the highest point he could manage to look out and around. He walked over the bridge, checking various corners and crevices, and Lucy followed him on the ground.

If it wasn't as quiet as it was, she might've missed the sniffle.

There was an hollow tube below one of the bridges hidden behind a ladder, and with the lack of light she couldn't see anything definitive, but the shifting black blob was unmistakably moving and breathing.

She quickly maneuvered her way beneath the bridge to the other side of the tunnel, catching sight of her Inflictor on the way. At the eye contact she made a frantic waving motion for him to come to her, and within seconds he was launching himself over one of the railings, falling six feet to the ground.

It didn't even phase him.

He was only slightly winded when he came to kneel beside her. From this side they were closer to the lamp and she could faintly make out a mop of dark hair and light skin, but not much else.

"Romeo," he breathed, relieved, moving to sit cross-legged on the ground, "you've worried mom sick, y'know?"

Romeo didn't answer, he instead pulled his legs to his chest and ducked his forehead into his knees.

There was some light clicking as her Inflictor sent a quick text with his phone. "Why didn't you call mom to let her know where you were?"

"It died," Romeo mumbled into his knees.

"Mom said you told her you were going to Wen's," her Inflictor cocked his head to one side, trying to make eye contact with his brother, "but Wen said you weren't there. You'd never even made plans to go there."

Romeo stayed silent.

"What's going on, Romeo?"

Romeo curled more into himself to hide, but Lucy didn't miss the flicker of light in a tear trailing down his nose. His sniffles turned into slight sobs and Lucy felt her heart wrench at the sound.

Why was he crying.

"Romeo, come out, please?" Her Inflictor offered a hand, and Romeo peeked out at it.

"Don't freak out," he whispered, "okay?"

Her Inflictor's brow furrowed, "Why would I do that?"

"Just promise."

"…okay, I promise."

Romeo turned to face them, legs stretched and ankles hooking over the edge of the tunnel to pull himself out of the dark and into the light.

Shit.

His eyes were downcast, the left of them swollen and dark purple around the eye socket. There was a trail of blood down the side of his face from a split on his eyebrow, and his lower lip was busted and bruised. His right cheekbone was bright red, shiny, and slightly blue, and dried blood was smudged along one side of his jaw.

The kid couldn't be more than fourteen. Why the fuck was he beaten all to hell?

"Who did this to you?"

Her Inflictor's voice was low. Furious. A stark contrast to the care he exhibited cradling Romeo's face in his hands and twisting him side to side to get a look at the damage. He looked so tired.

He didn't answer.

Her Inflictor ran his thumb along a line of blood and some of it flaked off.

"Romeo have you been out here since yesterday?" he asked softly, letting his hands fall.

Romeo bit his lip and looked away.

"Jesus Christ."

Her Inflictor in a flash had his coat off and wrapped around his brother's shoulders. Romeo threaded his arms through the sleeves and curled into himself. Shivers wracked his body as his limbs adjusted to the warmth.

"Did someone steal your stuff?" he asked, and Romeo shook his head.

"I didn't get a chance to grab it before I left school," he said softly, pulling the hood up.

"Your _classmates_ did this to you?"

Romeo flinched and shivered, but not from the cold this time. A new set of tears fell down his cheeks and he hastily wiped them away with his sleeve. A breeze whistled through the jungle gym and Romeo's head snapped up at the squeak from the swings. His eyes darted back and forth and his breathing quickened.

The kid was terrified.

Her Inflictor took his brother's silence as a yes.

"Which kids?" he snarled.

Romeo looked back to his brother, "It's not—"

"I'll teach them to mess with my brother," he growled, pulling his phone from his pocket. "You won't have to be scared—"

"I'm not scared," Romeo defended, but his voice crack said otherwise.

"It's okay to be scared, Romeo," her Inflictor was typing a bunch of numbers and characters into a search engine. "For _them._ I'll make sure this doesn't happen again. You shouldn't have to feel afraid going to school—"

"I'm not scared of _them_!" Romeo nearly yelled.

Her Inflictor froze.

A fresh set of tears rimmed Romeo's eyes and his breath hitched, "I'm not scared of getting beaten up, Natsu. I'm…I'm…"

They fell and Romeo buried his face in his crossed arms. Loud sobs wracked his body, made even more haunting by the way the sound bounced around in the tunnels and back from the metal panels.

"Romeo, what happened?" he asked gently, running his hands through his brother's hair to brush the dark locks from where they were plastered on his face. He couldn't talk, any time he tried to make a sound it was warped into an incomprehensible cry.

So they waited until he'd quieted down.

"Tell me."

Romeo raised his head from his hands to look up at his brother, and in a very raw voice, whispered, "We learned about Marked and Inflictors yesterday."

The air grew heavy.

They stayed silent.

"It wasn't a big deal to me. I already knew about them 'cause of mom and dad," Romeo continued, swallowing the thickness in his throat to clear it. "But a lot of other kids didn't."

Lucy knew how that felt. She hadn't known when she'd gone into the assembly at her school and had come out so distraught and angry she'd grabbed her stuff and hidden in a classroom for hours after school had ended. Her parents hadn't said anything to her about it.

"We'd been given the rest of the day off," he whispered, hugging himself, "to go home and talk to our parents. I was the last one back to the lockers to grab my stuff, and a few of my classmates were there, talking about their marks and stuff."

Romeo rubbed at the eye that wasn't bruised, "They tried to pull me into the conversation to shit-talk their Inflictors for having killed them, and wondering about what had killed them in the first place." He shook his head. "I didn't want to join in so I just told them I didn't feel like it."

His voice was getting heavy again and he sniffed, "They backed me up against my locker, called me a pussy, and then asked if I even had a mark 'cause if I did, then I wouldn't be walking away from them." Romeo closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. "They dragged me outside," his voice cracked, "ripped my clothes off, and when they didn't find a birthmark…

"I ran from them and I've been hiding. I couldn't…I couldn't come home." he trailed off.

"They called me a murderer, Natsu," Romeo let out a choked sob, now staring helplessly at his brother as he cried. "They beat me up and called me a murderer and I'm so scared."

Her Inflictor's haze hardened, "I won't let that happen agai—"

Romeo cut him off, angry, "I already told you I'm not scared of them!"

Silence.

"Natsu…" Romeo bit his lip, "what if they're right?"

Her Inflictor just stared.

"What if I killed someone?" his voice cracked again, "What if I'm an Inflictor?"

Once he started, he couldn't stop.

"I can't believe I'd do something like that, and I never thought I could have…but what if they're right? What if something happened and I killed another person?" he stared at his hands and balled them into fists in his sleeves. "How could I have _done_ that? What if…what if they don't forgive me? What if…"

He looked up helplessly.

"I don't _want_ this, Natsu," he whimpered, his head falling forward to his brother's chest. "I can't take this. I can't—"

He broke down again.

Lucy couldn't move.

She could barely breathe.

 _He has agonized over meeting you for as long as I have known him._

She didn't notice the tears streaming down her cheeks until a gust of wind nearly froze her lashes and she wiped them away.

When had those gotten there.

She cursed herself internally and suppressed the urge to bang her forehead against something, hard.

She was such a fucking idiot.

"Romeo, listen to me."

She turned at the voice of the man beside her, pink hair falling in his eyes, eyes glassed over and jaw clenched in an attempt to keep his composure. Romeo needed him to be strong right now. He needed to be the one to fall apart.

"Just because you don't have a mark," he started, "doesn't mean you're going to end up in a soul bonded pair as an Inflictor. You know that, right?"

Romeo shook his head, "But I could be."

Lucy half expected him to deny that statement to make Romeo feel better.

"You're right," he relented, "you could be."

Romeo broke down and his brother pulled him into his chest, holding him tight.

"But that doesn't make you a bad person," he muttered into Romeo's hair, "what you've done in the past doesn't define who you are _now_. Romeo you are the kindest, most caring person I've ever met. Nothing could ever change that about you."

"What if they never forgive me?" his voice was so soft Lucy barely caught it.

"They will."

Her eyes widened at her own words as Romeo looked at her for the first time and blinked, just now noticing that she was here. His eyes scanned her face and a blush came up to colour his cheeks.

"This is Lucy," he introduces her to Romeo. "I was dropping her off when mom called me. I didn't want to leave her alone so I brought her with me."

"Hi," Romeo waved at her slightly, and Lucy's heart clenched.

She couldn't stop herself from drawing him into a tight hug, because this kid deserved nothing less.

This innocent, sweet, kind, caring teen did not deserve the agony he was feeling. He didn't deserve the crippling anxiety that was making him cry, or to be so scared that he would hide. He didn't deserve to get the shit beaten out of him by a group of Marked who thought they were entitled to despising their Inflictors based on assumptions they hadn't even bothered to try and work out.

He didn't deserve that. He was only a kid.

…and _he_ didn't deserve that either.

"They will forgive you," she whispered by Romeo's ear, and the boy relaxed into her, arms coming to wrap around her waist as tears coated the side of her neck. "They may be upset at first, or you may be upset at first because you don't know what may have happened. It's not just black and white. Good and bad. Murderer and victim. It's not."

She looked over to Natsu.

"They may be upset, Romeo," she continued, taking in the sight of her soulmate, "and it may take time, but they'll forgive you. They'll understand." She pulled away and held him at arms length, brushing the hair from his eyes. "It'll be hard and you both may not be able to control your emotions very well…" she trailed off.

Romeo just hugged her again.

She'd said enough.

And judging by Natsu's expression…

He'd heard her.

…

Romeo had refused to let Lucy get in the back of the cruiser so he could sit in the front. He'd insisted it was impolite and immediately started running his fingers along the holes of the divider. The bright smile on his face opened the split in his lip again but he didn't seem to notice.

"Are you sure you're okay being back there, Romeo?" Lucy asked. She felt a little guilty stealing the front with everything he'd gone through in the past day and a half.

"I haven't been back here in forever," he threaded his fingers through the holes and pressed his forehead to the metal, "I'm totally fine."

There were impressions of diamonds on his face when he pulled back and Lucy giggled.

The car ride was silent, save the occasional word exchanged between the two brothers, but there were no words needed really. Natsu was relieved to have his brother back and Romeo's uneasiness seemed to be muted for the most part.

And Lucy…

At this point her brain wouldn't shut up, and the guilt was killing her.

She'd never stopped to think what it must've been like for Inflictors. She'd never considered the fact that Marked could hurt others, or target those they felt had wronged them. She'd not only stereotyped and developed a prejudice against Inflictors…she'd done the same to herself.

How many times had she unknowingly caused someone else pain by the way she thought?

There are good people out there who may just happen to be Inflictors or Marked. There are bad people out there who may just happen to be Inflictors or Marked. There are good and bad people out there that may not have a soulmate.

These good and bad people may even not be just that. They may have just made a mistake or done something good or bad that in no way reflects on who they are as a person. Things happen, good or bad, but these single acts don't define a person's character.

The culmination of a _bunch_ of actions and who a person is when they're just…being…is who they are.

She looked over to her soulmate.

She'd been nothing but awful to him. Treating him like a nuisance, snapping at him, projecting her own bias and assumptions onto someone she didn't even really know yet in this life. A whole other person made up of actions with no memory of who he'd been or the things he'd done as Haru.

And he'd accepted it. He'd taken on her anger, pain, prejudice. He'd let her because he could understand the pain she was going through.

Because he was going through the same, only he wasn't hating someone else.

He was hating himself.

She was silent as they pulled in behind one of two cars in a driveway. It was a small house, green roof, dim porch light with large windows showing off a tidy living room area with a TV. A man and a woman sat opposite each other in lounge chairs and their bowed heads snapped up at the lights from the cruiser.

"C'mon, Romeo."

Natsu swiftly got out of the car, let his brother out, and got the both of them halfway up the stairs to the porch before the front door was thrown open and Romeo was pulled into his mother's arms. He was taller than his mother, a shorter, slightly round woman with dark hair, radiating warmth and love for her sons.

When she held Romeo at arms length, the pang of pain on her face was unmistakable, even from how far away Lucy was. She brushed hair from her son's face and stood on her toes to kiss his forehead before looking to Natsu.

Lucy couldn't make out what they were saying, but she didn't miss how the woman pulled Natsu in tight and kissed his cheek before looking all over Romeo's face at the damage and pulling him inside.

Natsu stood about half a foot shorter than his father. The two looked in after Romeo, and the grave look on the older man's face told Lucy what Natsu was saying. The man sighed, ruffled Natsu's hair—to his protest, he swatted the hand away with a large smile—and pulled him into a tight hug. He took Natsu's face in both of his hands and gave him a firm pat on the cheek before Natsu walked back down the steps toward the car.

His father turned to go back inside but stopped as he saw Lucy.

She froze.

He just sent a knowing smile her way before heading back inside.

Lucy let out a large breath of air as Natsu got back in the car and slumped down into his seat, knocking his head back a few times.

"Sometimes I wonder if they loved me as much as they love him," he laughed. "I mean I totally know that they did, but still."

Lucy looked at him quizzically, "Well yeah…why wouldn't they?"

Natsu rolled his eyes and threw his car into reverse, "Typical adopted-kid thoughts when it comes to biological kids," he said bluntly. "I mean I know for a fact it doesn't matter to them and I didn't believe it in the slightest when kids used to say that at school, but I hear it a lot."

She just looked at him, "You were adopted?"

"Yeah," Natsu rounded the corner out onto the street, "they'd been trying for a kid for awhile and adopted me when I was about three." The smile that broke out was blinding. "Eight years later, Romeo was born, and every day they made sure I knew they loved me just the same."

The warmth that crossed his face as he laughed left Lucy speechless.

"I like to make that joke sometimes though," he told her, "just to get on their nerves. It bothers them to no end, especially my mom, but my dad gets a laugh out of it at least."

"Yeah," she smiled to herself, "I know what you mean."

Natsu glanced over at her with a raised eyebrow.

Lucy elaborated, "I would joke with my mom about being the reason she was stuck in a dead end job and couldn't go back to school since she had me so young and my dad wasn't around."

The smile faded from Natsu's face.

"What?" she asked, stomach sinking. "What did I say?"

He took a deep breath in and let it out in one gush.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, "about your mother."

Oh.

"I saw articles, but I hadn't put two and two together," he continued, "so if I was insensitive at all yesterday then I'd like to apologize."

Lucy groaned, "Oh come on, Natsu, don't get all somber on me now."

He said nothing.

"Damn," she sighed, "I liked having someone not knowing and just treating me normal."

"Sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be," Lucy snapped a bit, "everyone's doing it."

The silence was deafening.

The guilt came back soon after.

They didn't talk for the last few minutes it took to get to her apartment building. Natsu pulled up to the drop off area directly in front of the doors and killed the engine.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, seeing Natsu turn to look at her from the corner of her eye.

"You've got nothing to apologize for," he smiled. "Really."

That wasn't true. She had a lot to apologize for.

She was reaching for the door handle when his voice stopped her. "Are you coming into the station tomorrow? I found some files today and I've been looking through them…" he trailed off, and Lucy looked back over her shoulder.

He'd been looking even after everything that happened yesterday?

"Yeah…I will."

She stepped out of the car, muscle memory kicking in to shut the door that she then scrambled to catch before it closed.

She leaned against it, other hand braced on the hood of the car, and chewed on her lip.

"Lucy?"

She shook her body out before making direct eye contact with him.

"You shouldn't be driving right now. You could get into a car accident if you remember something."

She took in his stricken expression before shutting the door, patting the hood a few times, and heading inside.

He didn't need to be spacing out at the wheel after all. That was just irresponsible.

—

 _Irresponsible._

 _"Are you fucking insane?!" she screams at him, pacing between the two beds. She runs her hands through her hair, not looking at Haru sitting on her bed._

 _Correction. It's definitely_ not _Haru sitting on her bed. Haru is smart, calm and calculated. An idiotic, brainless_ moron _who decided it would be a good idea to leave the hotel room in the middle of the night_ without telling her _, was sitting on her bed._

 _Scratch the not telling her part. It doesn't matter if he told her or not. The fact is he left._

 _"Are you a fucking idiot?" she whirls on him, meeting eyes lit with amusement. "You know how dangerous it is for you to be out, so why the hell are you doing the shit that could get you caught? I mean one minute you're a fucking genius one step ahead of me and the next you're_ leaving in the middle of the night to go god knows where. _"_

 _He shrugs, "I was hungry."_

 _"THAT'S WHAT ROOM SERVICE IS FOR!"_

 _He at least has the sense to look guilty, "I'm sorry. I just didn't want to cost you more money and I had cash left over."_

 _That's the stupidest thing she's ever heard._

 _"Okay, first," she starts, finally sitting down across from him on her bed, "money doesn't fucking matter. Do you think I'd be living out of hotel room after hotel room if it was any issue? No. So money isn't an excuse. You've figured that out by now._

 _He bows his head._

 _"Second," she leans low to get close to him, "that's a bullshit excuse and you and I both know it, so try again."_

 _Haru sighs and gives in._

 _"I made a call to a friend from a payphone," he tells her, and the wave of nausea that hits her is crippling._

 _"Why?" she nearly snarls._

 _"Because he's my roommate and I'll probably never see him again and I just wanted to get a few things in order," he explains. "I mean the kill is all over the news, even if they stop looking I can't go back to my old life and subject those I love to hiding me."_

 _She breathes in deep, "Did you tell him about me?"_

 _He shakes his head, "No. I just told him that something happened and I probably wouldn't be home for awhile."_

 _She groans, "Could you be any worse at vague talk?"_

 _He laughs a little, "Sorry."_

 _"You're such an idiot," she sighs, laying down on her side. "We have to move now."_

 _Haru blinks at her, "What?"_

 _She stares at him through narrowed eyes, "I mean we were going to have to anyway. I was about to head out, the only reason I stayed here a few extra days was because of you."_

 _He raises a brow, "Why are we leaving?"_

 _"Because the guy I'm looking for isn't here. So I shouldn't be either," she states simply. "I've already stayed too long." She moves to kneeling on her floor, lifts up the bed skirt, and pulls a stack of folded cardboard boxes._

 _She tosses a few to Haru, "Fold these. We need to start packing."_

 _He does as he's told as she starts pulling clothes and belongings from drawers and cupboards, irritation evident through the jerking of her movements. He knows better than that. He does. She knows he does. So why would he go do something so stupid?_

 _He's a bad liar. She can tell. She can tell when he goes from lies to truth and he wasn't lying about calling his roommate._

 _But he was lying about something._

 _She'll have to figure it out later. They need to check out tomorrow. She's already extended the room a few extra days and this new kink in her otherwise flawlessly planned chain is making her skin crawl. She needs to get out of here and back to her routine._

 _She doesn't feel safe here anymore. Too many things have gone wrong this time around and they can't get out soon enough for her._

 _Maybe they could even check out early. Though she was a few days late to her reserved room at her next hotel, she was still paying for the days in cash and as long as they had their money they didn't care. The room would be waiting for her._

 _The thought made her feel better._

 _"C'mon," she decides, "let's finish this. I want to leave tonight."_

 _"Don't we have another night?" he asks, and she glares at him over her shoulder._

 _"Yes," she growls, "we do. But I'm going stir crazy now because of this. The sooner we leave this town the better."_

 _Haru seems to back off at that and go back to packing her textbooks and framed degrees into one of the large boxes._

 _After a good ten minutes of silence, she elects to turn the TV on to he local new channel. Better to keep an ear out for any leads than to not. Can't be too safe, right?_

 _The anchor is just prattling on about traffic accidents, a house fire, local sports teams and various town events. Nothing too special until they transfer over to an on scene reporter out front of a house sectioned off by yellow tape, crawling with police cars and blinking siren lights._

 _The reporter is a few towns over. She could recognize a few of the street signs and one of the landmarks. In fact it was one of the towns she'd passed through for a night on her way to this one._

 _Weird._

 _She only half listens as she begins packing up her things in the bathroom._

 _"_ ** _I'm here, live, reporting from a currently undisclosed location, where officers are investigating a murder-suicide having taken place._** _" She shoves a few makeup brushes and a lipstick tube into her toiletry bag._

 _"_ ** _Neighbors reported two gunshots about a minute apart and nobody arriving or leaving the premises prior to._** _"_

 _A new female voice comes from the TV, "_ ** _It wasn't until the second one that I thought it might be a gunshot, so I called the cops. —_** _Beep—_ ** _and_** _—beep—_ ** _are amazing neighbours, but have mostly kept to themselves since_** _—beep—_ ** _passed."_**

 _The reporter is back, "_ ** _Names are currently being withheld, but assailant and victim are confirmed to be a mother and her son._** _"_

 _She freezes._

 _What?_

 _Her feet carry themselves out of the bathroom and back in the direction of the TV—where Haru is standing, unmoving, in front of the screen—as the reporter continues, "_ ** _Both were pronounced DOA with gunshots to the head. Motive seems to be grief of the passing of the husband and father a few years prior. Other details have not been released due to speculation but will be disclosed once confirmed by the coroner._** _"_

 _The images blur together on the screen as a few more statements from more neighbours are taken._

 _She can't feel her body anymore._

 _"No," she breathes, voice cracking._

 _It was_ him. _There was no way it wasn't._

 _The one time she decides to bypass a city with a wealthy widow. The one time she figures they'll be safe because this woman has a son and her target wouldn't dare go after someone like that._

 _The one. Damn. Time._

 _"Fuck," her voice cracks and she drops to her knees._

 _It's all her fault._

 _He'd slipped through her fingers. Again. And worse than a kid being orphaned, a kid was dead._

Dead.

 _"Dammit!" she screams into her knees, hands tugging at the roots of her hair and pulling the skin of her scalp painfully away from her skull. Tears prick at her eyes and only fall when one of her hands fly forward to punch the TV stand in front of her._

 _The anchor is going on and on about a psychotic break._

 _She snarls._

 _"Don't call her crazy!" she yells at the TV. "It's not her fucking fault! She didn't do it, you piece of shit bitch!"_

 _She'd been there. She'd been right. Fucking. There._

 _And she'd left._

 _A hand settles on her shoulder and she jerks away._

 _"Don't touch me," she snarls up at Haru, kneeling just above her._

 _She doesn't expect the tears in his eyes._

 _"It's gonna be okay," he tells her, and she pulls back even further from him._

 _"No. It's not gonna be okay," she's loud and pushes him back into the foot of the bed. "A kid is_ dead _and it's_ my _fucking fault!"_

 _Haru shakes his head, "There's no way this could be your—"_

 _"It_ is _," she hisses, cutting him off. "It_ is _my fault because if I'd just stayed in that damn town I could've found him and killed the fucker before he had a chance to—" her voice cracks as a new wave of tears floods her eyes and coat her throat._

 _"Fuck," she breathes, choking back a sob, "I was so fucking close."_

 _Her hands don't seem to be her own as they swing at the stand, the carpet, herself. Coherent thoughts are non-existent. All she can do is think about easing the agony searing at her head and chest. The guilt. The sympathy._

 _She hates feelings._

 _This time, Haru is quicker._

 _She jerks back once again from Haru's touch, but he doesn't let her go. He grabs her fists and holds both her wrists with one hand, just barely managing to keep his grip in her attempts to get them free. He pulls her back to his chest, securing one of his legs around both of hers and tightening his hold to restrain her._

 _Sobs rip from her throat as her head hangs and she feels his chin digging into the muscle where her neck meets her shoulder. It's uncomfortable and it hurts, but it leaves her lax, limbs slack. The TV is off somehow. The room is dead quiet._

 _It kills her._

 _"It's all my fault," she whispers, forehead pressed into her knees. "All my fault."_

 _She feels Haru shake his head from behind her, "No. It's not. It's_ his _."_

 _"It feels like my fault," she breathes._

 _She doesn't fight him anymore. She doesn't try to pull away when Haru lets his legs drop from around her. She doesn't try to pull away when his arms go slack and come to rest around her stomach. She doesn't try to pull away when he lifts his chin from her shoulder to press his forehead to her neck instead._

 _Instead, she relaxes back into him, because she's touch starved._

 _She can't remember the last time she was touched without malicious sexual intent or selfish flirtation. She can't remember the last time she had…this._

 _So she lets him hold her while she cries, and when she can feel wetness against her own skin…_

 _She threads her fingers through his and tightens his hold around her waist._

 _…_

 _She wakes up tucked into Haru's chest with his arm thrown over her._

 _It's still dark out. The moonlight streams in between the hanging blinds and she can see Haru's eyes are closed. His breathing is even and he's warm._

 _They're above the covers, but still so very warm._

 _She rests her head back down against the pillows, and with it out of the way, the moon can illuminate the faded silver scar on Haru's neck, now just inches away from her._

 _She's tracing the ragged ridges before she can even think about it._

 _It's softer than she would've thought for something that looks so angry. It's not as raised as it must've been when he'd first got it, and it tugs at the surrounding skin with each beat of his heart, like it's trying to accommodate something larger than its used to._

 _…how old was he when he got this?_

 _"My father died when I was seven years old."_

 _Her stomach flips at the sudden sound of his voice, but she gratefully doesn't flinch. Her fingers still their tracing for only a moment before resuming._

 _Haru shudders at the touch and she can hear him open his mouth to continue._

 _"My mother was devastated," he says softly, voice a little distant. "She was surrounded by people haggling her left and right for the money she'd inherited, accusing her of murder, pestering her for statements. She couldn't get any peace and when they couldn't get to her, they tried to get to me._

 _"That of course pissed her off royally," she can feel him smile slightly against her hair, "and she ended up giving more than one reporter a black eye."_

 _She laughed softly._

 _"She eventually hired a man, a lawyer, to get her affairs in order. He was fiercely protective of her and she ended up falling for him," he swallows and his tone changes to one of anger. "The fucker stuck around for years to con my mom out of millions of dollars."_

 _Her body chills, deep into every muscle and bone._

 _"He succeeded," Haru hisses, fingers absently coming up to tug at her hair. His touch is too tender for the tone of voice he's exuding. It's unsettling and makes her anxious._

 _"But she wouldn't kill herself," he tells her, voice thick, and he swallows. "He threatened her with a gun to her head and she just wouldn't. She couldn't._

 _"I was sleeping at home that night, and I heard her screaming as he came down the hall," his fingers still in her hair, "begging him to leave me alone. She'd give him everything if he just left me alone._

 _"It's from his knife," he tells her, hand coming up next to hers to touch the scar on his neck. "He held it to my throat, deep, until my mother shot herself." Even though she isn't looking directly up at him, she can see tears glisten down to his chin._

 _"It was a miracle that I managed to get away. I ran as soon as the shot fired, and by the time he caught up to me, he had no choice but to leave me and run if he didn't want to get caught," he finishes, voice hollow._

 _"Ever since I was old enough and could, I've been hunting him down," he whispers, and pulls back to look at her. Her gaze flickers to his eyes and then back to his neck. His neck is safer to look at._

 _"You're hunting him too, aren't you?" he asks, and she bites her lip._

 _She squeezes her eyes shut and presses her forehead to the skin of his bare chest._

 _"He targeted your mom after mine," he continues, and she can't breathe at this point. "You're the only other time he failed to leave no witnesses."_

 _She can't speak._

 _She can only cling to him as her body disobeys her yet again._

 _"We're the same," he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close. "We're after the same person."_

 _She nods against him._

 _"Let me help you," he rumbles. "He needs to pay for what he's done," and it hits her like a freight train._

 _She isn't alone anymore._

 _Not just physically. But emotionally. In every sense of the word because he gets it. He's been through it. He's the same as she is._

 _She isn't. Alone._

 _Tears stream silently down her cheeks and she can't speak. She can't talk to answer him._

 _So she pulls back, cradles his stubbled jaw in her hands, pulls him close to press her lips to his._

 _And he answers her in kind._


	5. Theory 2

_**A/N:**_ _This is the big one. The chapter that started it all. I hope it doesn't disappoint._

 _Thank you all for sticking with me and for your reviews. They mean so much to me. Really._

* * *

 _Theory #2: Hours of memories may be recovered and relived within only seconds of real time._

* * *

 _She'd trusted him._

 _It had taken her a bit. A lot of fights and a some late night conversations in front of Netflix, but she'd eventually decided he'd earned it._

 _And he'd betrayed her._

 _"How?" she whispers, clenching her hands into fists._

 _Haru scratches the back of his neck, head bowed to the ground. There's no way he's meeting her gaze. Not after this._

 _"I just—"_

 _"How could you_ do _this, Haru? I thought I could trust you," her voice strains. The muscles in her neck are tense as she swallows down her anger._

 _"It was an accident."_

 _"Do you think I care?! Look!"_

 _She crouches beside the wheel of her car and yanks Haru down by the collar of his shirt, pulling his face to the large dent just behind the left rear headlight._

 _"I mean seriously, how the hell do you dent a car while loading it with boxes? What the fuck?"_

 _He looks sheepish._

 _"You_ know _I can't go get this car serviced without them running the plates, right?" she stands, pulling him up with her. "What if you'd screwed up the frame, huh?"_

 _"Fucking hell, I'm sorry, alright?" he yanks himself free of her. "If your boxes weren't so heavy—"_

 _"Haru, I've been doing this for years, okay?_ Years _of loading and unloading my shit and the most I've ever had to do to my car is figure out how to give it an oil change. I haven't even had a flat tire," she glares, holding her hand out._

 _He stares at her, blinking._

 _"Keys."_

 _"Elieeeee," he drawls, bouncing on his heels, "you said I could drive this time."_

 _She scoffs, "When did I say that?"_

 _"Uhh…" he blinks, looking away, "a few days ago."_

 _"After you almost crashed that one time? No way. I'd have to be really fucking drunk," she pauses for a second, "…and high. Really high. Like major, major drugs high to ever let you behind the wheel again."_

 _He narrows his eyes at her, "That was_ months _ago!"_

 _"Ask me if I give a fuck."_

 _It wasn't a question._

 _He says nothing._

 _"Keys, Haru."_

 _"Elieee—"_

"Keys!"

 _He sighs and tosses them at her before stomping around the front of the car to the passengers side._

 _She swears sometimes he's a big toddler. It's another thing that's endearing about him._

 _…sometimes._

 _She shakes her head, an involuntary smile on her face as she pulls open her door and gets in._

 _"You're a better navigator anyway," she offers, turning her key in the ignition, "driving's a lot easier with you giving me directions than the other way around."_

 _Haru lets out a hard laugh, "Yeah, you suck at directions."_

 _"Hey!" she looks over to him, "I do_ not _suck at directions!"_

 _He raises an eyebrow at her, pointedly._

 _She looks away, voice soft. "I just forget people can't see what I'm seeing and don't know what I know."_

 _He laughs._

 _"That is the definition of giving directions, Elie," he states bluntly, pulling out a small stack of paper._

 _Dick._

 _"Shut up and start navigating already," she grumbles._

 _Her gaze is focused on the road, but she doesn't miss Haru's amused snicker and grin, "Turn right and then merge onto the highway."_

 _"East or west?" she asks, switching to the right lane._

 _"East."_

 _"For how long?"_

 _He shuffles around next to her, kicking off his boots and tilting the seat back to curl up. "A good four hours at least," he yawns, and turns away from her, "wake me up if I'm still asleep, but I shouldn't be by then."_

 _She follows the signs pointing east and accelerates up to a few miles above the speed limit before setting the cruise control and trip odometer. It's pretty empty this early in the morning, especially since the city they'd been in's rush hour was the opposite direction they're heading._

 _It's perfect really._

 _They've got a good six hours in the car before they cross the state line, and then another two to their booked hotel. It's one of the shorter drives she's been on, but the longest since Haru's been with her._

 _He makes the time pass quicker when he isn't sleeping._

 _She swears it's been three—though according to the clock it's only been one—when Haru's voice breaks through her soft humming._

 _"You nervous?"_

 _Her stomach flips at the question and she glances over at him. His back is no longer to her, though he's still curled up slightly, arm bent back beneath his head. His voice is a little groggy with sleep, lids heavy, and it takes a minute for her brain to register the question._

 _Is she nervous?_

 _She wants to laugh at how stupid it is that there's a pit in her gut._

 _She swallows._

 _She's been waiting for this her whole life. Even before she knew what happened to her mother and even before she'd set out to find the man that had killed her…she's been waiting for this her whole life and it's finally here._

 _They'd found him._

 _Haru had proved to be adept at hacking into security feed, both to delete the restaurant's interior footage from the night he'd killed one of their suspects—she'd told him there weren't any cameras outside in the alleys she'd taken him through, he'd checked anyway and found nothing—and to scout out new potential targets once they'd gone through the rest of the men on her list._

 _So when they'd been vetting various widows and spotted someone they'd both thought looked scarily familiar, they'd done everything in their power to pin the guy down._

 _He was sporting the cleverly disguised SIN number of a dead man and expired plates registered to a car that definitely wasn't the sleek Mustang he was driving. Those on their own would've been a marker, but what had sold her were his eyes._

 _She'd had her doubts with all the others she'd tracked down, but she'd bet her life on this one. She didn't remember much about her mother's death, and if you asked her to describe the guy to a sketch artist, she wouldn't've been able to tell you. She'd was too young. Hell, they'd asked at the time and all she'd been able to tell them anything useful._

 _His eyes are what haunt her. Glaring down at her mother from above. She'd only seen them for a second before jerking back under the bed, praying he hadn't seen her. She'd only seen them for a second, but that's all it took._

 _She knows his eyes._

 _Seeing them again—even just on a monitor—ended with Haru laying behind her in bed in the middle of the night, her back to his chest, to stave off the nightmares. The memories._

 _If this was how she reacted to a picture on screen…how the hell is she going to deal with him face to face?_

 _She has two days to figure it out._

 _"Yeah," she finally answers. She breathes in to add more but can only shake her head and grip the wheel, "…yeah."_

 _She feels Haru's fingers brush strands of her hair away from her face and behind her ear. She fights the way her eyes start to flutter closed at the feel of his nails against her scalp and giggles as she pulls his hand away._

 _"I'm driving," she gives his fingers a squeeze, "don't distract me."_

 _"I have no idea what you're talking about." He's amused and she doesn't need to look at him to know there's a shit eating grin on his face._

 _He stops with the hands in the hair thing, but doesn't let go of her as he curls up again and drifts off._

 _Later on if she's the one with her fingers in_ his _hair, well, he isn't awake to notice how she watches the muscles in his face relax at her touch._

 _Or how she can't seem to not smile._

 _When they finally get to the hotel, the sun is starting to set._

 _"Alright," she breathes, stretching her arms over her head, "I'm gunna go check in. I'll be back in a bit, kay?"_

 _Haru nods from where he's slumped over the hood of the car and waves her off. She laughs at his overdramatic posture and heads for the front of the motel. "You spent the whole day sleeping!" she calls over her shoulder, "You're fine!"_

 _He half heartedly throws a rock that falls a few feet short of her._

 _She's exhausted from driving all day and more than grateful to see an empty lobby with the exception of one girl already at the front desk. Less time waiting to check in, more time collapsing into a bed and sleeping for twelve hours straight._

 _Of course Haru would just point out he could've driven and she could've slept, which totally wasn't an option. Too many things could go wrong if she didn't keep an eye on him._

Idiot, _she smiles._

 _"Please," the voice of the girl at the front desk cuts through her dead-on-her-feet lethargy, "can't you make an exception just this once?"_

 _"I'm sorry, miss," the clerk looks sympathetic, "but there's nothing I can do about it."_

 _"I have cash though!" the girl pulls a wallet haphazardly from one of the gaping pockets of a ratty backpack. "I don't need to be eighteen if it's cash, do I?"_

 _"Here, you do," the woman behind the desk bites her lip, "I'm so sorry. There's a hotel a few blocks down that—"_

 _The girl rubs at her eyes, "I can't afford that." Her hand slides down the side of her face and she walks around in a small circle before turning back to the clerk. "I'll be eighteen in two months. Can you really not do anything for me?"_

 _The clerk shakes her head, "I'm truly sorry, but our policy here states you must present valid ID proving you are of age in order to book a room."_

 _"Okay," the girl's voice cracks and she hauls her bag over one shoulder, "thank you for your time, I'm sorry for wasting it."_

 _She watches as the girl trudges over to the couches and sits down, head in her hands. The clerk spots her waiting in line and waves her over._

 _It doesn't even take her a second thought._

 _Instead of going to check in and get her keys, she walks over to join the girl on the couches. The girl's dark hair is gathered into a high ponytail with bright blue tips that fall over one shoulder as she hunches over._

 _"Hey," she says softly, and the girl's head snaps up. Her face is tear streaked and she hastily wipes them away._

 _"I'm sorry, did you wanna sit here?" the girl asks._

 _"No," she shakes her head and sits in the opposite lounge chair, "I was just wondering if you were okay."_

 _The girl looks like she'd going to force a smile before she deflates and shakes her head. "No…"_

 _"What's going on?"_

 _"I need to find a place to stay before flying home tomorrow,"_ t _he girl lets out a defeated sigh and gestures with her hand to the room and front desk, "and the only motel with rooms I can afford won't let me."_

 _She looks at the girl's clothes, bag and suitcase. Pockets are open, zippers aren't done up all the way, there are a few stains on the fabric she can see under the girl's sweater…inside out sweater. The girl is all rumpled and her hair is tangled. She'd been in a hurry._

 _"Where did you leave from so quickly?" she asks, cautious. She's not sure if she's overstepping asking this, but someone so young being alone almost in the middle of nowhere is concerning._

 _"Uh…" the girl lets out a hard laugh, "my girlfriend's dorm."_

 _Ah. "Did you two have a fight…or?"_

 _The girl snorts and her nose scrunches, "You could say that."_

 _She cocks her head to one side and just waits._

 _The girl glances up to meet her gaze before averting her eyes. "We haven't seen each other since she moved to her college and I really wanted to surprise her," the girl says, eyes now unseeing. "Was not expecting a half-naked chick grinding down on her on the couch." The girl's voice is thick by the time she manages to force out the rest of her sentence._

 _"Oh no," she breathes. Her heart clenches at the sight of this girl choking back a sob, and she can't help but move from the chair to the coffee table and pull her in for a hug._

 _"Am I not enough?" the girl whispers against her collarbone. She's mumbling some, but not enough to be unintelligible. "I mean, I get that I'm not there, but the least she could've done was tell me. Aren't I worth that much?"_

 _So much more than that._

 _"What's your name?" she asks._

 _The girl's chin hooks over her shoulder, voice clearer, "Skai."_

 _She pulls back and holds Skai at arms length, "Okay, Skai, I want you to listen to me."_

 _Skai just looks at her._

 _"I don't know why your girlfriend did what she did," she starts, brushing a loose strand from her face, "but you by no means deserved that."_

 _Skai looks away and bites her lip._

 _"This happening," she leans down to try and meet the girl's gaze, "by no means reflects on who you are as a person. This reflects on her."_

 _She waits until Skai gives her attention back._

 _"You deserve so much more than someone who would do something like this," she says softly._

 _"But I wasn't enough," Skai's voice cracks._

 _"Wrong," she cuts the girl off, "you_ are _enough. You are_ so much _enough."_

 _She grabs Skai's hands._

 _"_ You _deserve so much better than that, Skai," she tells her. "It's_ her _who isn't enough for you."_

 _Skai bites her lip as tears fall from her cheeks. "But I love her," the girl croaks._

 _"I know," she whispers, pulling her in. "I know."_

 _"Why do I still love her?"_

Because we can't turn our feelings off no matter how much we may want to.

 _Skai clutches at her back and cries into her shoulder. Her back hurts from the surface of the coffee table and her muscles ache from being cramped in a small space all day, but she doesn't pull away._

 _She holds onto Skai until the sobs die down._

 _"Sorry," the girl whispers, when she finally pulls away._

 _"Don't be," she smiles at her._

 _"I just…" Skai wipes at her black-streaked cheeks and shakes her head._

 _"I know," she says softly. Skai looks exhausted, about to fall over._

 _"Did you get off a plane today?" she asks, and Skai nods._

 _"Yeah, I went straight to her school from the airport…"_

 _She looks away from Skai and around the room before turning back. "There's a bathroom just over there, go get cleaned up, okay?"_

 _Skai nods, stands, and shuffles over in the direction of the women's restroom. The lobby is still empty, so she leaves Skai's things to go to the front desk and check in._

 _The clerk—Liz—gets her her room keys, but she stops her before she can head into the back room._

 _"Liz," she starts, unzipping another pocket of her wallet, "I'd like to buy one more room for the night if there are vacancies."_

 _Liz looks at her with a raised brow, "In addition to the days you've already paid for?"_

 _She shakes her head, "No. A separate room for only one night."_

 _Liz's gaze leaves her for a second, darting to Skai's suitcases before coming back. A smile crosses her face as she tinkers away on the computer behind the desk._

 _"Do you have an envelope?" she asks, and Liz nods, rummaging around a few drawers before pulling out a small white one and handing it to her._

 _She grabs a small stack of hundreds from her wallet and stuffs them in just as Liz hands her the room key._

 _She pulls a pen from another part of her wallet._

 _"What's the room number?" she asks._

 _Liz tells her._

 _She writes Skai's name on the envelope along with the room number and stuffs her keycards in with the cash. She tucks the triangle's edges inside and smooths it down so it's relatively flat—though the shape of the cards are unmistakable._

 _She hands the envelope to Liz, "Make sure she gets this."_

 _Liz just looks at her, wide-eyed. "How much did you put in he—"_

 _She interrupts, "Can I trust you to give this to her?"_

 _Liz pauses. "Don't you want to give it to her yourself?"_

 _She shakes her head and smiles, "I've gotta get somewhere and she doesn't need to have the opportunity to say no."_

 _Liz nods and takes the envelope._

 _She ducks around the corner, just barely making it out of sight as Skai walks back in from her trip to the bathroom._

 _She stays just long enough to see Liz call her over before turning to make her way out the doors._

 _She bumps into something._

 _"You're supposed to be unloading," she glares up at Haru with a slight pout on her face._

 _He shrugs, "You didn't come back as quickly as you usually do, so I came to check on you."_

 _She accepts that, "Alright, well I've got the cards now, so let's go." She moves toward the double doors to the outside parking lot, but turns back when she doesn't feel Haru following._

 _He's just standing there, arms crossed, leaning against the wall, staring at her._

 _Why is he staring?_

 _"Why're you staring?" she unconsciously crosses her arms over her own chest to cover herself. She always feels so…exposed when people look at her like that for too long._

 _She almost asks him again when he doesn't answer right away, but before he can his head tilts to one side and a small smile pulls up the corner of his mouth. "You're really something, y'know?"_

 _The flush that overtakes her face is hot enough she needs to press the backs of her hands to her cheeks to cool them down, "What're you talking about?"_

 _Haru glances back in the direction of the lobby, "What you did? For that girl?"_

 _She spins on her heel and shoves her way out the door, this time with Haru right behind her. She brushes it off, "That was nothing."_

 _"Maybe not to you," Haru tells her, keeping up with her hurried stride, "but to that girl? What you did was everything. That was everything."_

 _She just shrugs and stuffs her hands in her pockets, "I just did what anyone else would've done."_

 _"Anyone else would've just grabbed their keys and walked away," he argues. They slow down as they get to their room where Haru had already piled the boxes. He hauls one up in his arms as she unlocks the door and holds it open for him._

 _"I doubt it," she whispers._

 _"You cared about her," he says with a grunt, setting the box down on one of the beds. "You were there when she needed someone. We all need to be told that we're worth something once in awhile."_

 _She swallows, "Damn, Haru, just how close were you? Did you hear the whole damn convo?"_

 _He laughs. "It's a quiet lobby and I have a pretty sensitive ear," he says, "I didn't have to do much."_

 _She shakes her head, "Eavesdropper."_

 _"I rarely get to see your soft side." She freezes at how close he sounds and when she turns he's standing only about a foot away. She has to look up. "So," he continues, "you can't fault me for wanting to see more of it."_

 _"I'm not soft," she protests, looking away. His eyes are too dark. They see too much._

 _Her stomach churns._

 _"I know," he sighs, and she can see him smooth his thumb and forefinger down over his eyebrows. "You're strong. Stronger than you should have to be."_

 _She blinks at him and opens her mouth to ask what he means, but he disappears out the door to grab another box before she can._

 _And then the moment is gone._

 _They don't unpack much since they aren't planning to be here for more than three days, but they get their clothes into drawers and the closet and stash the case with their guns under the bed._

 _She flops down next to Haru on the free mattress and buries her face in one of the pillows with a low groan. Everything hurts and curling up to fall asleep and never wake up sounds like heaven right about now._

 _She lays her head to one side and sees Haru looking back at her through slitted eyes. Bright pink hair falls over his face, a lot lighter since the colour has faded._

 _The muscles in her arm scream at her as she runs her fingers through the dyed locks and parts it in multiple places. She hasn't touched it up in a few months, so an inch of dark hair is bleeding in from the roots._

 _"Your hair looks awful," she smirks at his glare, "I really gotta do something about this technicolor you've got going on."_

 _"You can if you want to," he turns his face away from her to smash it into the bedding, "'m st'yin' hrrre."_

 _She laughs at that and rolls over, off the bed to her feet. Once she's in for the night, she's going to be in and they need dinner right about now anyway._

 _"I saw a place with subs about a block from here," she yawns, grabbing her wallet and key card, "and a pharmacy right next to it. I'll go grab us dinner."_

 _He eyes her from his spot on the bed, "You're not taking the car?"_

 _She shakes her head, "Nah. No need. It's close. I should be back in about thirty. Don't do anything stupid, okay?"_

 _"When do I ever?" he raises an eyebrow at her and she just stares at him._

 _"Seriously, Haru. Don't be dumb," she reiterates and he rolls his eyes._

 _"Yeah, yeah," he turns away from her and curls up._

 _She slips out the door with a laugh and shudders at a gust of wind. It was getting colder. She'd need to go shopping for winter clothes soon, her last sweaters she'd had to give to Haru since they were the only things she had that were big enough for him before they could get him some real shirts._

 _He'd still managed to rip them all in one place or another._

 _He so owed her for that._

 _She smiles to herself as she reaches the first stoplight. She can see the plaza from where she is. The parking lot looks deserted so it may even take her less time to grab what they need. Would that particular store have pink though?_

 _She blinks. Does he even still want pink?_

 _The light turns green but she doesn't cross the street. She could still run back and ask him if he wants a different colour._

 _She turns back._

 _The one thing she loves about being in the middle of nowhere is the silence. No birds, the occasional car, and the feel of her heels scuffing at the pavement. She can just relax and listen to her own breathing._

 _It's comforting really._

 _"…day after tomorrow…evening I think…"_

 _She blinks._

 _Haru?_

 _"…well…yeah…can still get something out of it…fucking hell…fucker…"_

 _She quits dragging her heels and instead peeks around the corner leading to the row of rooms they're in._

 _Yep. Definitely Haru. The shock of pink hair is unmistakable, even with his back to her._

 _She sees him turn slightly, the receiver of a payphone to his ear. He leans against the adjacent wall with a downcast gaze, brow furrowed._

 _Who's he talking to?_

 _She glares at him. Idiot. How many times has she told him not to do this?_

 _…once actually. He hasn't called someone from a payphone since the first few days he'd dropped into her life._

 _Right?_

 _Well…if he gets so eavesdrop, so does she._

 _"…seriously…fuck…how'd that happen…"_

 _She pulls back behind the corner so she's out of sight and inclines her ear to hear him better._

 _"…I know…yeah…" he sighs, "…you've told me a million times…I get it…"_

 _She stifles a yawn and there's such a long pause that for just a second she thinks he's hung up._

 _"…I don't know if I can do this, Musica…" he breathes._

 _Her brow furrows at that._

 _"…I mean…like…of course not…of course I'm still going to…"_

 _What the hell is he talking about?_

 _"…I just mean…I can't…no! She's not. She's nothing like that at all…"_

 _Her stomach sinks._

 _"…she's…oh, if you could meet her…like…"_

 _Who?_

 _"…it's not her fault that this happened to her…"_

 _What?_

 _"…this isn't fair…yes, I know it's the damn fucking job but that doesn't mean I have to like it!"_

 _Tears prick the backs of her eyes._

 _"…I won't be able to do it…you're going to have to…"_

 _She sinks to the concrete._

 _"…I can't be the one to cuff and interrogate her, Musica…I just can't…"_

 _Silence._

 _"…okay…thanks…see you soon."_

 _She hears the click of the receiver and then a few moments after, the sound of a door closing. The cold of the sidewalk seeps into the seat of her jeans and the brick wall cools her back. She lets her head fall forward onto her bent knees and her tears soak through the fabric._

 _She knew, deep down, that this arrangement wasn't going to last forever. That at some point the two of them were going to have to split. Despite there being no hard evidence of the fact, it was something she'd known would be inevitable, she just hadn't known when or why._

 _And now…now she did._

 _She smiles at the irony of it all. Two survivors of the same con man's con. Two orphans hunting the same person, on opposite sides…with the same goal._

 _Maybe…if things had been different…they could've been on the same side. Maybe, if she'd gone to a different foster home, or gotten adopted, she wouldn't be where she was now. Maybe she'd be a cop too._

 _She wipes the tears from her eyes._

 _However they're going about it, they still have the same goal._

 _She'll just need to let go of him sooner than she'd thought and run._

 _She pulls herself up from her spot on the ground, and makes her way back in the direction of the plaza. They still need food after all, and he could make do with pink. He'd never complained about it anyway._

 _—_

Her head felt like it was going to explode.

There was no way it could only be Sunday. Just no way. She'd gone through months— _months_ —of memories throughout the hours of the night and morning. Even when she slept she wasn't free. Driving, stakeouts, dinners, random dates to the bowling alley and even an indoor ice rink when Haru had found out she didn't know how to skate.

He'd played hockey, apparently. The showoff decided that snowing her was funny until she flinched once with raised arms, lost her balance, and fell down.

He hadn't let go of her hand after that.

She'd been reliving _all of it_ and she was _exhausted_.

That last one though…that last memory had taken all of her anger with it.

She'd known.

He hadn't told her, so yeah, he'd still technically lied to her. But she'd figured it out.

The anger she'd been feeling was her own. Not Elie's. Elie hadn't been angry at all. She'd felt defeated, like it was inevitable that any kind of happiness of hers would be taken one way or another—and she wasn't wrong.

Fuck…she really needed to talk to Natsu.

With the amount of time she would've spent waiting for the bus, it was just easier to walk to the station. The wind was cold and stung as it whipped her hair around her face and cheeks, but she just kept her head down and earbuds in.

It was a relief when she finally entered the precinct.

She absently scrolled through the music on her phone, deleting upcoming songs she didn't feel like listening to. If she and Natsu were going to skim their way through more files to try and find the records about Elie, she was going to need a playlist to keep her brain from overloading.

It was packed enough right now as is. A distraction would be really helpful, even if it was just something for her ears to attune to absently.

By the time she got a good chunk of songs in order, she was already in the open door of the records room, looking around and blinking.

Didn't Natsu keep it closed?

She glanced at the desk, strewn with tons of folders, and shuffled over. Loose papers once again littered the room, only this time there were stacks of case-files on the ground too.

And a petite figure hunched over, wearing red glasses.

"Levy?"

Levy inclined her head toward Lucy without looking away from the folder in her hands, and Lucy shook her head and crossed her arms. She always did this in the middle of a paragraph, it was hard for her to tear herself away.

When she finally did and her eyes met Lucy standing above her, Levy hopped to her feet with a bright smile.

"Lucy!" she stepped over the stacks of folders and rounded the desk to give her a hug.

"What're you doing back?" Lucy asked, pulling back from Levy. "Aren't you two supposed to be gone until tomorrow?"

Levy shrugged, "Yeah, there was a break in the alley-shooter case though, so Makarov called Gajeel in."

"That sucks." Lucy watched as Levy made her way back behind the desk to sit down.

"Yeah, well," Levy pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, "we still had a great first night and day yesterday, so I'm not complaining."

"Good," Lucy smiled.

Levy clapped her hands together, "So, what can I do for you?"

Lucy stared at her for a few seconds before the question registered. "Oh, right," she crossed her arms over her chest and tried to avoid the flush of her cheeks, "I was just looking for Natsu."

"He was down here earlier," Levy rummaged around through a few desk files, grabbing a stray folder here and there, "asking about a few unsolved cases and their linked FBI files. Don't know why he'd be asking for those since they aren't in the database yet…" she trailed off before pushing a small stack to the edge of the desk.

"So he's not down here?" she asked.

Levy shook her head, "No, he's probably back upstairs at his desk."

Lucy nodded, but made no move to leave. She tightened her hold around her shoulders, swallowing down the anxiety at her next question.

Levy cocked her head to one side, "What is it?"

"Where is that, exactly?" her voice was soft.

"Natsu's desk?" Levy's brow furrowed. "It's right across from Gray's, why?"

Lucy nodded again and forced a smile, "Okay, awesome. Thanks, Lev!"

She turned to go but froze at Levy's voice, "Lucy? What's going on?"

Lucy sighed and deflated.

She really didn't want to get into this right about now…but Levy definitely wouldn't leave her alone until she said something.

So she turned back and told her.

And Levy just listened.

"Was not expecting that one," Levy hunched over and rest an elbow on her desk, propping her head up. "I mean yeah," she looked to the ceiling, "I can see it, but still."

Lucy didn't know what to say.

"Are you okay?" Levy asked.

Lucy shrugged, "I don't know." She ran a hand through her hair, "I mean…like…how am I supposed to feel about this? I'm hurt, and angry, but then I remember something that completely invalidates that emotion because I'm making assumptions, and he's hurting too, and as much as I want to care sometimes I don't, and—" she cut herself off.

"You know however you feel is completely valid, right?"

Lucy looked to Levy. She was smiling, cheek squished against her palm.

"Doesn't feel like it," she grumbled. "It feels like I have no control over myself whatsoever."

"That's the hardest part," Levy straightened up and leaned back against the wall behind her. "The trying to separate what emotions are yours from what emotions were hers."

"Yeah," Lucy sighed and rubbed her forehead, "the anger is all mine. I know that much at least, now."

"That's good," Levy offered. "You need to let yourself feel it. Feel how you feel and do your best to discern what is yours, and what was Elie's."

"It's hard," she shoved her hands in her pockets, "because she feels like me. When I remember…"

"You're the same soul," Levy smiled. "The same soul in different bodies living different lives. Of course you're going to feel like you're the same person, and lucky for you there isn't a massive difference in your overall mentality."

Lucy raised an eyebrow at that.

"You work in the business," Levy continued, "so you know what can happen when memories surface from a life where one was once…not in the best place psychologically."

Lucy nodded.

"I'm not saying that what happened wasn't awful," Levy told her, "because it was. Everything you went through as a kid and what happened afterward is despicable. Unfair. Uncalled for.

"But you stand at a lesser risk, because despite all the awful shit that happened to you, it never really changed the core of who you are, Lucy." Levy smiled at her.

Lucy raised an eyebrow, "Which is what, exactly?"

"A kind soul who just wants to love and be loved."

Lucy absently raised a hand to rub at her birthmark.

It was scary how accurate Levy could be sometimes.

Levy stood and came back around to stand in front of Lucy again, picking up the small stack as she went. "Come on, I'll take you to Natsu. I was just about to head up to get these to him since Gajeel and I are gunna eat in a bit."

Lucy nodded and followed Levy out, closing the door behind them.

"How'd you do it?"

Levy looked up at her, "Hm?"

"You and Gajeel," she clarified. "How'd you work through him killing you?"

Levy smiled sadly, "I never told you, did I?"

Lucy shook her head and the smile fell from Levy's face. She bit her lip, her brow furrowed, she closed her eyes, swallowed. She fought back expression after expression before her features smoothed out—she let out a heavy sigh, and found the words.

"We were both involved in gang activity in our past life," Levy started, making her way up the flight of stairs. "Typical ongoing rivalry. My dad was the boss, his dad was the boss, blah blah blah."

Lucy followed.

"So one day," she readjusted the folders in her arms, "we kidnapped him to get information about a drug deal going down, and I was in charge of his interrogation."

Lucy's eyes widened.

What?

Levy looked down and bit her lip before glancing over to Lucy, "You've seen the scars on his arms, right?"

Lucy nodded. It was one of the first things she'd really noticed about Gajeel since he always rolled his sleeves up—large, jagged, silver half moons that look like they'd been gouged right out of his skin.

"I did that," she whispered, burying her face into one of the folders. "I tortured him for information. The arms aren't even the half of it."

Lucy wrapped an arm around Levy's shoulders and pulled her into her side.

"So he had no choice," Levy hardened her resolve as they came to the doorway leading into the precinct's desk area. "It had gotten to a point that it was either him, or me, and survival instincts are a powerful thing."

Lucy watched as Levy turned her focus to her husband, curled over a case-file at his desk. The smile that crossed her face was so soft, Lucy felt uncomfortable looking at something that seemed so intimate.

"He forgave me a long time ago," she said softly. "It's me who's having trouble forgiving myself.

"Not all people are bad, even if they've done bad things." She said it absently, like she wasn't even talking to Lucy anymore. Like she was trying to reassure herself of something she didn't quite believe yet.

Like he'd heard something, Gajeel's head snapped up to where Levy was, and the grin that crossed his face was blinding. Within seconds he was standing in front of Levy, cradling a cheek in one palm and the curve of her hip in the other.

He leaned down to her ear, "Yer too sexy, shorty. 's distracting me from my job. I might hav'ta arrest you for that."

Levy turned bright pink as Gajeel pulled away, fingertips tracing lightly over her stomach. "I'll meet ya in the break room for _lunch_ ," he winked.

Lucy snickered at Levy's internal screaming, but didn't miss the way she freed one of her hands from the stack she was holding to rest where his fingers had just been. "Stupid Gajeel."

Lucy raised an eyebrow, but kept that observation to herself. She could be wrong, but if she wasn't, it wasn't her job to pry.

Levy turned to her and offered her the folders, "Can you take these to Natsu? He shouldn't be that hard to find. You know where Gray's desk is, right?"

Lucy nodded.

"Awesome," Levy's eyes lit up and she made her way in the same direction Gajeel just disappeared to.

Lucy shook her head with a smile on her face and headed for Gray's desk.

"He's a good guy," she heard Levy say, and Lucy glanced back over her shoulder.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Natsu, I mean."

Lucy looked away and over to the bright pink hair she can see behind a computer.

"Yeah," she said softly, "I know."

And she meant that in more ways than one.

Levy hurried off in the direction of the lunch room, and Lucy shuffled over in the direction of what she could only assume was Natsu's desk. Since it was completely covered in paper and he was hunched over with his arms bent into a makeshift pillow, she could also assume it was currently doubling as his bed.

She plopped down in the chair opposite him and set the folders in the only semi-open space she could find.

He was snoring, brow furrowed, and he was still sporting the stubble she'd seen on him last night. She snickered, and as if hearing the sound, he buried his face in the bend of his elbow, the movement knocking a paper off his desk.

He was wearing the same clothes he was yesterday too.

Had he been here all night?

She grabbed the paper from the floor and put it back in the general area she thought it had fallen from.

She poked at his arm.

"Natsu?"

Nothing.

She rolled her chair in closer, "Natsuuuu."

Still nothing.

How was she supposed to wake him u—

The grin that crossed her face was terrifying to even her, and she wasn't one who could see it.

She stood from her chair, braced both hands on the desk, leaned right down next to Natsu's ear…

And blew.

Not hard enough to hurt him, but enough that she needed to jerk back as he shot up in his seat, covered his ear with a free hand and yelled at her. " _What the hell, Elie?!"_

Lucy laughed and she could see Natsu's face fall as he took in his surroundings.

"Nope," Lucy sat back down and crossed her arms, "not Elie this time, though it's good to see it works on you too."

"Not cool, Lucy," Natsu narrowed his eyes and he rubbed at his ear, "really messes with the ear drums, y'know?"

"I was gentle," she protested, leaning back.

Natsu opened his mouth and then shut it. "Still mean."

Lucy leaned forward to pluck a sticky note from his cheek and lay it back down on the desk, "You're right, I'm sorry."

Natsu blinked at her.

"What?"

He shook his head, "Nothing."

She watched as he grabbed a stray cup of coffee and took a large gulp before setting it down with a grimace.

She cocked her head to one side, and at her expression he scrunched his nose, "Coffee's cold."

A loud ding caught his attention and he moved a few things around to pick up his phone. There was a faint click as he unlocked the screen and a quick ticking of the touch keyboard as he sent a text back.

He caught her staring.

"Romeo," he held up his phone before setting it back down.

She nodded. "How is he?"

Natsu set it down next to his computer, "Good. Mom got him all bandaged up and he doesn't seem as anxious today, which is really good for him."

"Good," she let out a relieved breath, "I'm glad."

Natsu raised an eyebrow at her, but it didn't end up as high as it usually did. His facial muscles were fighting the movement.

Awake, he looked more tired than he did while he was asleep.

"How early did you get here?" she asked.

He scratched the back of his neck with a weak smile, "Uh…I never left?"

"…you've been here all night?"

"Maybe?" There was a slight blush on his cheeks.

She shook her head, "Idiot."

He smirked. "Careful, I may start to think you care about me."

She grinned, "Alright. What've you got to show me? You said you found something yesterday?"

"No," he rummaged around, "I was looking yesterday but mainly just developing theories to see what I could find out about you." He looked up at her. "Elie, you. Not you you," he clarified.

She nodded, "So what did you find out?"

His eyes lit up as he fished out a loose paper and scanned the large paragraphs, "Well, you…" he paused, "Elie, kind of disappears at the age of eighteen."

She raised an eyebrow.

He continued.

"The day she was of age, she met with her mother's _real_ lawyers about what'd happened to her, and about the money left behind," he grabbed another random paper. "They told her about Acnologia—" she gave him a weird look, "—the name he was going by at the time—and within the day, Elie had cashed the whole fortune. You can't find any trace of her since."

"What about the college degrees?" she asked.

"Enrolled under a fake name, had the certificates mailed signed, but blank so she could fill them in herself," he handed her a piece of paper. "There was one thing the lawyers had failed to tell her that I think you'll find interesting."

The paper had a picture of a beautiful young woman that looked a lot like Elie, but older. She could remember the face from the brief memories she'd relived of her mom in her past life.

"When your mom first hired Acnologia as her lawyer," Natsu started, "she didn't know who he was, but by then the FBI had caught on to the fact there was a serial killer within their jurisdiction. Unfortunately, they didn't have enough evidence on him to make an arrest…" he trailed off.

She looked up from the paper to him.

He was biting his lip.

"Just say it, Natsu. What is it?" she pressed.

He sighed, "They brought her on as a confidential informant."

Her jaw clenched. "My mother was a CI?"

Natsu nodded. "They'd told her if she wanted to keep you safe, they were going to need her help."

"And she ended up getting killed anyway," she breathed, covering her face with one hand.

"Yeah."

"Well," she leaned back in her seat, looking to Natsu, "at least that explains how hush hush everyone was and why they had me change my name."

"Yeah. It was smart of Elie to switch to a cash-only way of living if she didn't want to be found. Unfortunately, that means I know nothing other than what's in the incomplete original folder, and that report can't be trusted," his gaze landed on the new folders she'd brought up and he snatched them. "Awesome."

"What's in those?" she asked.

"A few more files on his victims," he told her, opening up the first one, "after Elie's death there were a few more cases before he disappeared completely."

She blinked, "They never found him?"

Natsu shrugged, "There's no record of him or any sort of investigation about a year after Elie's death. He just…stops."

"That's so weird," she whispered.

There was only the rustling of paper for a few minutes before Lucy breaks the silence.

"So," she started, "my mother was a CI for the FBI who was killed by the past incarnation of my father because they failed to protect her, who I then began hunting in revenge and ran into you."

Natsu looked up from his desk, nodding.

"That still doesn't tell me why she killed herself," she sighed. "I mean, that doesn't make any sense."

He shook his head, "I'm not sure either. I think there's a piece that we're missing that we can't seem to find in the files yet."

"Do you remember anything that may give you a clue?" she asked.

The pang of guilt she can see on his face makes her stomach churn. "No," he answered. "Nothing having to do with your mother."

He offered her one of the folders. "Wanna read and see if you can find anything?"

She took it from him and flipped it open, but stopped before she started reading.

"Why can't that original report be trusted?" she asked.

For a minute she doesn't think he heard her.

"There are a few things written in it that don't line up with what I remember," he said.

"And your memories can be trusted?"

His gaze fixed on her, "About those things, yes. Absolutely."

"Okay," she nodded, and turned back to the folder.

It felt like déjà vu when hours later, by the time they'd sorted through a ton of folders, they still hadn't found anything useful.

"I hate to say it, Lucy," Natsu sighed, letting his heal loll back on his chair, "but I don't know if we'll be able to find out about your mom from files."

"You giving up?" she challenged. There was more anger in her voice than she'd intended but Natsu was already answering before she could correct herself.

"No, not at all," he reassured her, leaning forward to lie down on his arms, "I'm just saying we might have to look for a new avenue to find the information we need."

Lucy sighed and flopped forward too, folded arms just barely brushing against Natsu's. "Why did you have to be so secretive and misleading on paper, huh?" she teased.

He laughed. "I dunno," he answered honestly, "I don't remember yet."

"Yeah well, let me know when you do, yeah?" she poked his arm and he grabbed her finger.

"You'll be the first to know if you don't remember on your own."

Her skin pricked at the feel of his fingertips trailing over the pads of her palm and the back of her hand.

—

 _She shudders as the alcohol burns its way down her throat and warms her stomach. The liquor is chilled and makes for a jarring temperature difference with each shot she knocks back._

 _Haru does one with her._

 _"Y'know we gotta be up and ready tomorrow afternoon, right?" he asks, hissing as he slams down his glass again._

 _"I know," she tells him, pouring another round for them, "that's what alarms are for."_

 _"Guud," he slurs, "cause I ain't getting up tomorrow without one."_

 _She laughs at his deliberately informal slurring of words. He only ever talks like this when he's drunk, it's one of her favourite things._

 _"Less talking, more celebrating," she raises her shot glass and he clinks his with hers before knocking back one more._

 _She readjusts her sitting position from where they are on the floor._

 _"Damn," he laughs and looks at her, "where'd ya learn to drink like this?"_

 _"There were some interesting nights at one of the last foster homes I was at," she answers, leaning her head back against the bed and closing her eyes. "Had to learn pretty quick in order to keep up with the big guys."_

 _"Hm?"_

 _She cracks an eye open at his confusion, "A few of my foster brothers were football players. They partied a lot, so they had an advantage of high tolerance."_

 _He hums in response._

 _"You ever end up in foster homes?" she asks._

 _He looks thoughtful, "For a little while. I got into some trouble on the streets before I was taken in by my adoptive father."_

 _"Does he know what you're doing?"_

 _He shakes his head, "He died a little after I turned eighteen."_

 _Her heart clenches, "I'm sorry."_

 _"Ah," he waves her off, "don't worry about it. It was awhile ago."_

 _He smiles at her, bright and full. Her stomach flips and her chest aches._

 _He really is beautiful._

 _Even with his badly dyed roots—the store hadn't had pink so she'd brought home black but Haru had refused and said he wanted to wait—showing, and face flushed from drinking, he was beautiful. Especially his smile. A smile that lit up his whole face._

 _He looks so relaxed like this. Happy. Peaceful._

 _Of the countless times she's seen him like this, with and without the booze, she'd never thought there'd be a time she'd know it was over._

 _It is though. It's all over after this. It all ends tomorrow._

 _"Have you ever regretted something so much you think it might kill you?" She pours herself another drink, this time in a paper cup so she can swish it around a bit._

 _She doesn't expect him to go as silent as he does, or sport the agonized expression currently warping his smile._

 _She's on her knees and crawling toward him instantly._

 _"Hey, hey," she soothes, abandoning her cup to slide closer in to him, "what's wrong?" She takes his face in her hands and he leans into her touch, eyes closed._

 _"So much, Elie," he breathes. "More than you may ever know."_

 _She can only stare at him with a furrowed brow as his eyes open and he gets serious. He looks sobered by her question, but how glassy his eyes are tell a different story. It's not just tears they're filled with._

 _It takes a minute for him to start talking._

 _"When I was younger," he starts, "I regretted not doing more for my mother." He swallows. "I thought I could've helped her, stopped him, saved her, and it killed me every day."_

 _He brings a hand up to weave his fingers through hers, still leaning into her palm._

 _"But that guilt eventually faded when I realized all that would have happened if I hadn't run, was I would have died too and my mother would've sacrificed herself for nothing," he says softly. "So as much as I miss her and regret not doing more for her…I choose to be grateful for her loving me and put my efforts toward catching her killer."_

 _She can only stare at him. He's never talked like this before._

 _"And then when I was older," his eyes slit open, but remain downcast, "there were a few times I left my foster siblings to go out with a few friends, and came home to them covered in bruises or blood." He stares past her, unseeing, "I should've been there to protect them but I was so selfish I just wanted to fit in so it wouldn't happen to me."_

 _She swipes at the tears building in his waterline before they can fall._

 _"I take mild comfort in the shit I beat out of our 'foster father' the last time he managed to lay a hand on the little ones," he snarls, "and I was always there after that to take his shit so they didn't have to until he was arrested."_

 _She brushes his hair away from where it's stuck to his hairline. It's started to bead with sweat._

 _"I did my best to make up for it," he tells her, meeting her eyes for only a second before looking away, "but that doesn't change the fact I regret being as selfish as I was then, every single day. They never should have had to go through that."_

 _"You shouldn't have either," she whispers._

 _He doesn't respond to that._

 _"I regret a shit ton of things, Elie," he swallows, "so many that I'm not even sure how I've managed to live with myself this long or get as far as I have. But above all of it, I've only grown to regret something_ the most _, recently."_

 _She tilts her head to one side and he finally turns to her._

 _"I regret not finding you sooner."_

 _What?_

 _His fingers come up to graze along her cheek and his eyes are no longer on hers, but instead trailing all over her features. "I had two years where I was of age and had the ability to access information about this asshole, before you did. There were two years, before you turned eighteen, that I could've found you."_

 _She can barely breathe at this point._

 _"And even then…if I had just…" his voice cracks and his other hand comes up, thumb running along her lower lash line._

 _"I wish I could have spared you this life, Elie," he barely manages to say it. "You don't deserve this. You don't deserve to be living in hotels, off the grid. You deserve a life. With a husband. With kids."_

 _Her jaw locks shut._

 _"I wish I knew about you sooner…because I would've done anything to protect you if I had…"_

 _She can barely make him out through her tears._

 _"I'm so sorry, Elie," he chokes, and she can feel his tears fall and roll over her fingers. "I'm so, so sorry."_

 _She can't see anymore._

 _"I wish I could have saved you."_

 _She clings to him, pulling him close as he cries into her shoulder and tears stream down her cheeks. They fall silently, warm._

 _"But you did," she tells him._

 _He grips her tighter and she feels him shake his head._

 _"Maybe not in the way you wanted," she continues, "but you did save me, Haru."_

 _She moves from where she's kneeling to climb onto his lap and cradle his head to her chest. Her chin rests against his hair and tickles her jaw as she speaks._

 _"I didn't have much left in me," she says, combing at the pink with her fingers. "Alive, but slowly dying every day." She snorts to herself, "Damn that sounds cliché as all hell."_

 _She thinks she can feel him laugh a little._

 _"Then you just kinda…showed up," she scratches at his scalp, "and I wasn't alone anymore. I wasn't dying anymore."_

 _She tilts his chin up so he looks at her, lips brushing against his with each word, "Haru, I've lived again because of you. You_ did _save me."_

 _She swallows down her tears._

 _"Thank you," she whispers against his mouth. "Thank you so, so much."_

 _He grips at her waist, arms tightening to pull her closer as he parts her lips with his. Beneath the alcohol he tastes like peppermint and she sighs into him at the feel of his hand sliding up her back._

 _She didn't know how much she wanted this until now._

 _His thumbs trace the length of her spine and she shudders at the touch, hips rolling of their own accord and drawing a low moan from Haru that vibrates in her chest. It feels so good. She wants to hear more._

 _She tilts his jaw slightly to better meld her mouth to his, and that seems to jerk him out of his trance._

 _He pulls away._

 _"I can't," he breathes. "I can't take advantage of you like this."_

 _She laughs lightly, "I'm not that drunk, you know."_

 _"That's not what I'm talking about," he sighs, and she redirects his attention back to her._

 _"You're not taking advantage of me," she tells him. "You could never take advantage of me, whether you know it or not._

 _He looks up at her, a little confused, and a lot guilty._

 _He's always been easy to read, most of the time. It's funny he'd managed to keep his job a secret from her at all._

 _She knows what he's thinking._

 _"If you don't want this," she starts, "then okay. But if you do and you're stopping because you think you're 'taking advantage…please don't._

 _"Please don't stop."_

 _He caves._

 _He's a little wobbly when he stands, but more sure of himself as he lays her down on the bed, keeping his lips on hers the whole time and her torso flush against his for support until she can feel the mattress below her._

 _One hand moves to her hair, weaving through the strands, gripping them at the back of her neck as he hovers over her, free arm arm now braced against the wall. She feels his knees spread to better support himself and keep his weight off her, and she hooks her thighs over his hips to cross her ankles. Her hands grip at his shoulders and she moans into his mouth as he kisses her._

 _His tongue comes to meet hers and she shudders, hips bucking. Her shimmy leaves his jeans low on his hips, but not low enough. They aren't gone like they should be and he isn't close enough._

 _Not nearly close enough._

 _His mouth breaks from hers and moves to working up the length of her jaw, teeth nipping lightly toward her ear and then sinking into the flesh of her neck._

 _The moan is involuntary and her nails dig into his bare skin._

 _The hand in her hair moves to pull one of hers from his back, stretching it out beside her to thread fingers through fingers and she moves to pulls his mouth from her neck with her remaining one._

 _He doesn't give so easily._

 _"I love you," he breathes against her skin, and she can feel it. It's so soft and so slurred together that she second guesses having heard it in the first place. But she knows he's not even thinking at this point and just saying and doing whatever comes to mind and is instinctual, but she can feel it when he says it._

 _She can_ feel _it._

 _Her whole body tingles. Her chest aches, and a new wave hits her core at full force, flipping and aching and fuck…he just needs to be closer._

 _Tears prick the backs of her eyes as she pulls him back to her, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth before kissing it and carding her fingers through his hair. It's not enough. This isn't enough. She needs more._

 _He breaks away, panting, a sheen of sweat on his brow. The light from the lamp on the bedside next to them glistens over his forehead and eyes._

 _Those dark, adoring eyes, staring at her like she's the world and he'd never be able to live without her._

 _Those eyes._

 _They're asking her if she's okay with this._

 _She just kisses him in response as she makes work of his belt buckle._

 _He stops her though._

 _He kisses her slowly, from her neck, down to her collarbone and chest. He runs his hands along the planes of her stomach, mouths at the curve of her waist, cups her breasts through the fabric of her shirt._

 _He takes his time when he frees them from her bra, licking, nibbling, until her back is arching painfully, her hands tug at his hair, and her voice is raw._

 _He kisses, touches, and loves every inch of skin before he lets her at his belt, and even then he's slow._

 _He's soft._

 _He's adoring._

 _He makes sure she knows she's beautiful and cared for and loved before he fills her over, and over, and over. He wraps her in his arms, cradles her head to his chest and doesn't protest when she bites his shoulder. When the tears fall down her cheeks, they're joined by his, but not because of any kind of pain._

 _This connection…is everything._

 _He pulls her close. She clings to him, and they move until moans and whimpers rip from their throats as they unravel._

 _They unravel together. They breathe together. And when they weave back…_

 _They weave back._

 _Together._

—

Together they sat up in their chairs, and when Lucy stood and made her way into one of the empty conference rooms, Natsu followed. Her heart was still racing, and though she couldn't feel her legs, her whole body burned where he'd been wrapped around her.

She hadn't been expecting that, and from the absent look on his face, neither had he.

The room was dead quiet.

"I don't get it," she whispered, finally breaking the silence. The words felt foreign on her tongue, heavy with the effort of trying to fit back into her own body.

His gaze flickered to her.

"How the hell do you go from _that_ ," she gestured to one side with her hands, "to killing me the next day," she gestured to the opposite side.

"Haru," Natsu said firmly. "Haru. Not me."

"Yeah, yeah," she breathed, "I know. That's what I mean."

She could still feel his hands on her. How he felt about her.

How she'd felt about him.

And she'd known. He hadn't lied to her.

If anything…she'd lied to him by omission.

But still…how the fuck does that happen?

"What was it you meant, when you said that thing about being taken advantage of?" he asked.

She knew that look on his face. She'd seen it on Gray.

He was putting things together too.

"I overheard the conversation you had with Musica when we got to the last hotel," she confessed, looking away. "So I knew you were undercover. But you didn't know I knew. So you weren't taking advantage of me when we…"

When he didn't say anything, she turned back to find him just glaring at her.

"And you played along?"

Her lips parted, face blank, as she took in the anger beneath the hurt.

"Are you seriously pissed off that I favoured self preservation?" Her fists curled at her sides. "Of _course_ I wouldn't say anything about figuring that out. You _know_ what happens when a target makes you."

He shook his head, "Still—"

"Still _nothing_ ," she growled. "I figured out what you were up to and did what I could to save myself, because if you'd found out—"

"Then what?" he cut her off. "I would kill you?"

"You probably fucking did!" she yelled.

He reeled back at that, and if she thought he looked angry before, it'd been nothing compared to the pure fury that took him over at that.

"I would _never_ ," he spat, "have done that. Not with how I felt."

"Why the hell should I believe you?" she challenged.

He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, fingers tugging at the ends. He opened his mouth to answer when the door opened behind them.

She whirled around, "The door is closed for a reaso—"

It was Gajeel.

"We've got a sighting," he looked to Natsu. "The guy's back at Mira's again. Fucking idiot."

Natsu glowered, "Not the best time, Gajee—"

"I don't give a damn," Gajeel shoved his way further in and tossed a closed folder on the table. "You two can bitch about your problems later when there isn't a guy roaming the streets shooting people."

She whirled around on Gajeel, "We're not—"

"I love ya, blondie, but shut up," he looked from her to Natsu. "Ye still can't drive, so you'd better get your ass out here in the next minute or I'm leaving ya behind."

"What about Juvia?" Natsu asked.

"She didn't get called back."

"Gray?"

"He's not lead on this case. He's backup if we need it," Gajeel went to shut the door but stopped short. "Hurry the fuck up and read the damn file. We've got a face."

"I already know what he looks like, dumbass," Natsu crossed his arms.

"Whatever," Gajeel grumbled. "Just hurry the fuck up before Makarov gets the chance to stop ya. Yer still supposed to be on desk duty."

The door closed with a loud thud.

"Go," she said, voice hard.

He opened his mouth to protest, but she didn't let him get a word out.

"I don't give a flying fuck right now," she snarled, "so just fucking go."

His jaw snapped shut and his footsteps were heavy as he stalked past her to rip the door open. He let it swing on its hinges and slam into the wall.

She cursed the fact that she flinched.

His voice was soft, but his tone was livid as each carefully chosen, enunciated word carried back to her.

"You still see me as having been a cop that used you to get what I wanted, instead of a man trying to avenge his family using whatever had been available to him at the time."

Her chest burned.

"I chose to use law enforcement. You chose criminal activity. One different thing, and our roles could have been reversed."

She bit the inside of her lower lip.

"You owe me that possible perspective at least."

She felt the air rush past her to replace where he'd been as he left.

Her knees gave out.

With her head in her hands, she couldn't see what feet make the steps that came up behind her, but she knew who's footfalls they were.

"I feel like I'm going crazy," she felt him come to crouch in front of her, "like I have no control over myself right now."

Gray pulled her hands from her face and she looked up at him.

"You're not crazy," he pulled his legs under him to sit crosslegged on the ground. "Far from it. It's not easy to process all of this."

"I just…" she shook her head, "I'm so _mad_ and I don't know _why._ I didn't mean to take it out on him."

Gray smiled, "He knows. He's going through the same thing, so he knows."

"I'm losing it, Gray," she whispered.

"No you're not," he leaned back on his hands. "I won't let you."

She laughed.

He stayed with her while she calmed down.

"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere or something?" she asked, and he shrugged.

"Yeah," he kept his gaze on her, "right here keeping you from yelling at more people."

"Oh my god, you are such an ass," she snickered.

Gray laughed, "Yeah, but you love me anyway."

She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to retort—

A phone alarm went off.

—

 _Her arm shoots out from beneath the covers to turn the sound off._

 _Her heart races and she slowly turns to check and see if Haru is awake._

 _He's next to her, on his side, sleeping soundly._

 _She lets out a low breath._

 _She slides out from beneath the sheets and suppresses a shiver at the cold air. The final hour of sun streams in through the cracks of the shut blinds—enough for her to find her clothes, but not enough to wake Haru up._

 _He never wakes up before dinner when he's been drinking and they've been up so past the point of late you'd need to call it early. The more he drinks, the longer he sleeps, and she'd made sure he had way more alcohol than she did._

 _It was the only way to make sure he stayed asleep, because despite the fact that they both wanted to catch the same guy…_

 _Law prevented Haru from killing him and there was no way she was going to let him stop her from achieving her goal._

 _The easiest way to make that happen, is for her to go alone so he doesn't have to arrest her…and then leave._

 _She's a little lightheaded as she bounces on her toes to pull her pants up and drops down to her knees beside the bed. Her fingers find the hard surface of their guns case as she pulls it out, quietly unlatches it, and grabs Haru's gun from it._

 _His silencer is better._

 _She checks to make sure there are bullets and that the safety is on before she wedges it into the back of her jeans._

 _She slips into her bra and shirt, shrugs on her sweater and closes the one box of hers that they'd brought in. They'd already packed up all their things the night before for an easy exit from the motel, so there wasn't much running around to do._

 _She leaves her key card on the bedside table, and looks to Haru._

 _Her heart clenches._

 _She wishes things were different._

 _She tears her gaze away from him, hikes up the box onto one hip and slips out the door, electronic latch locking automatically behind her._

 _She dashes for the car and shoves her things in the back seat when she gets there, stopping only to grab her toothbrush. She'd showered the night before, but her teeth felt gross as all hell._

 _She scrubs at them as she drives._

 _She's not going to be able to go about this kill the way she usually does. If Haru is a cop then there'll definitely be other cops around who no doubt know what she looks like. A double arrest is obviously what they're aiming for, so there would be no way for her to savor it up close._

 _She'll just have to get him from a distance. She's a good shot. She can do it._

 _From what they'd gathered, he'd be there for a little over an hour before leaving. Normally she'd surprise him with the drugs and the have her follow him to her secondary location, but she was going to have to set up shop somewhere nearby, out of sight._

 _The good thing about the neighbourhood they're in, is that the city has started funding the redevelopment of tons of abandoned buildings._

 _Which means it's easy for her to find a relatively run down one not too far from the restaurant he's scheduled to be at as she drives down the street._

 _Awesome._

 _She maneuvers some old chains to get her car into an old, underground parking garage. There are a few beat up cars, and none of the wiring works, so she grabs her flashlight from the glove compartment before killing the engine and popping the trunk._

 _She rips open the tops to a few of the boxes and rummages around with the contents. It's been awhile since she'd gone shooting but she knows it's in there somewhe—_

 _Yes._

 _She pulls the handgun scope from beneath one of her old shirts and slides it down the barrel of Haru's gun._

 _It's a miracle that it fits._

 _She shoves the gun into a small backpack along with a bottle of water, a protein bar, and her keys. She makes her way for where she'd come in and puts the chain back on her way out._

 _She has a few blocks to walk, and does so zigzagging through alleys and in and out through the empty buildings. Each step is careful, she evens her breathing and gives her full attention to the shadows in case someone has decided hiding in a ratty old apartment lobby to keep an eye on her was a good idea._

 _She wouldn't put it past them, they're smart after all._

 _She settles in the one she'd spotted, a little ways down the street from the restaurant, and drops her bag on the sill of a window missing its glass. She pulls the gun from the bag, raises it to eye level, and lines the scope up with the general area her target is going to be._

 _Perfect line of sight. Not too far away._

 _She's so happy she got the scope with night vision._

 _She hops up to sit in the open window. With where the building is in relation to the street and the lighting, you'd have to shine a flashlight right at her to find her._

 _She shivers at a soft breeze and pulls her sweater closer around her. The waiting is always the worst part when its cold, especially so when she has nothing to do to pass the time._

 _Her heart stops when she sees him._

 _Just like in the footage. Long black hair. Tall. Dressed nicely with a briefcase in hand. The lamp posts are dim, so half of him is cast in shadow, but its gotta be him._

 _Especially since there's no mistaking the woman on his arm. His current target._

 _She brings the scope up to her eye to get a closer look._

 _She really is stunning, beaming as they take their seat at one of the tables by the large front-facing window. She can't see details, but she can keep an eye on them from here. Keep an eye on that widow from here._

 _The beautifully_ still alive _widow._

 _And she is going to stay that way._

 _Her whole body thrums at the sight of him talking, smiling, touching the woman's hands. The night vision warps colour and the sight of his eyes glowing is nerve-wracking to all hell._

 _Her butt is numb by the time she sees the waiter come back to the table with the bill, and her target slip a card out of his wallet to pay._

 _Her breathing becomes more shallow as he helps the woman slip back into her coat and walk back outside with her. She looks up at him, and her jaw clenches at the sight of him kissing her cheek._

 _Her finger itches toward the trigger._

 _The woman ducks her head and shuffles away as he pulls a phone from his pocket, squints at the screen, and brings it up to his ear. He starts walking as he talks._

 _In her direction._

 _She feels like she's going to throw up._

 _Can she do this?_

 _She swallows down the anxiety and hardens her resolve._

 _She has no choice._

 _He's killed countless mothers. Children. Ruined the lives of those connected to these people long after their loved ones are killed. Manipulated people in ways that leaves them haunted by what they could've done for things to turn out differently._

 _She has no choice._

 _It's always been about her. The revenge. Finding the man who ruined her life and making him pay for it. That was at the forefront, sure._

 _But it wasn't just about her anymore._

 _He was killing kids now._

 _And she couldn't let that happen again._

 _His pace is slow. The wind is nearly nonexistent, and in the hour or so after the early dinner rush, the streets are deserted._

 _Shoot him. Right between the eyes. Pack up, and run._

 _She wishes she could've had him in her chair, but something is better than nothing and the news coverage and expositional articles would be enough._

 _More than enough._

 _She lines up her shot, black lines in her viewfinder intersecting right between his brows. She breathes in, flicks the safety off, and pulls back on the hammer._

 _The click makes her heart race, and her finger darts between resting against the trigger guard, and the trigger itself._

 _She lets out a breath, slow, steadying her arm as her finger finally comes to rest on the trigger._

 _Her heart pounds._

 _She pulls._

 _The vision of the scope blurs as the shot misses, and she chokes at being pulled backwards by her hood. She falls from the window, head snapping back as she hits the ground on top of something soft._

 _"Are you fucking insane?" Haru hisses in her ear._

 _She rips herself from his grip and scrambles a few feet away, keeping a good hold on the gun. She leaps to her feet but by the time she makes it to the window, he's gone._

 _She whirls on him. "Why did you stop me, he was_ right there! _" she screams, shoving at his chest. "Years," she hisses, "years of tracking. For both of us. What the fuck, Haru?! WHAT THE FUCK!"_

 _"Because that wasn't him, Elie," he says simply._

 _She looks at him._

 _His expression is even._

 _"What are you talking about?" she asks._

 _He ignores her._

 _"Why'd you leave without me?" he crosses his arms._

 _He's angry. Of course he is._

 _There's no point now. Her plan flew out the window the second he'd found her._

 _"How'd you even find me?" If he was going to ignore her, she'd ignore him too._

 _He points to the gun. "I stuck a tracker in my silencer in case I ever lost it. Wasn't hard to find."_

 _"How'd you hide a phone from me?" she raises a brow._

 _"Why'd you leave without me?" he repeats._

 _She sighs, "Because as much as I'd love to catch this guy with you, Haru, I really don't feel like going to jail."_

 _There's enough light from the moon shining through the window for her to see his muscles tense and jaw lock._

 _He definitely wasn't expecting that._

 _His attempt at recovery is half-assed._

 _"Why would you be going to jail? We'd've left soon after—"_

 _"Left and run right into Musica, right?" she counters._

 _Throwing that name out there shut him up._

 _He opens his mouth to say something, before closing it and running a hand down his face with a, "Fuck."_

 _After a few minutes of silence, she tries again._

 _"What do you mean, that wasn't him?" she presses._

 _He sighs, "I can't tell you."_

 _Fine. If he's looking for an excuse…_

 _She raises her arm from where it hangs at her side, and aims right for his heart._

 _"This enough of an excuse for you?"_

 _He shakes his head, "I've been trained."_

 _She bites her lower lip and her hand tightens around the gun. "Please?"_

 _He looks at her._

 _"Haru, I need to know. I've been looking forever, please…" her voice feels heavy but she swallows down the emotion._

 _His hands run through his hair and dig into his skull as he paces, "Fuck, dammit. Fine. Might as well tell you now since they'll tell you later anyway."_

 _He turns to her._

 _"The guy we were after," he starts, "it was him. That wasn't a lie. We had found him." He stares out the window in the direction of the restaurant. "But somehow…we couldn't figure out how…he caught onto us tracking him and he ditched town the day you and I got to the motel."_

 _She just stares as him when he turns to her._

 _"That guy that you were about to shoot," he says softly, "wasn't him. It wasn't Acno. It was an undercover cop."_

 _The gun falls from her grip and clatters on the ground._

 _Absently, it registers in the back of her mind that that's dangerous since the safety is off._

 _She'd almost killed someone._

 _She'd almost killed an officer._

 _"Oh my god," she breathes, tucking her hands in her underarms. "Oh my god…"_

 _"What happened to the whole Devil's Breath thing, Elie?" he asked, "I mean damn, that's a really good M.O.. Not an easy thing to build a tolerance to. Took me two years."_

 _"Two years?" she echoed._

 _He nodded, "When multiple cases of random con men turning up out front of police stations—with no memory of how they'd gotten there—started crossing state lines, we were called by an old agent about it."_

 _Old Agent?_

 _"Holy shit, you're FBI," she breathes._

 _His brow furrows, "Didn't you—"_

 _"I knew you were a cop," she rubbed her eyes, "I didn't think you were F-B-fucking-I. Jesus Christ."_

 _He smiles at her, "That unbelievable?"_

 _She shakes her head. "No. It makes sense…just…" she sucks in a breath, "fuck."_

 _"Yeah."_

 _"Why the undercover cop then? Shouldn't you guys be looking for where he went instead?" she asks, moving to cross her arms over her chest._

 _"That's the endgame, yeah," he nods. "But in order to convict him, we need hard evidence, and just me isn't enough."_

 _It sinks in then._

 _"You targeted me…so I would be a witness and testify," she states._

 _He swallows, "Yeah."_

 _Oh no._

 _He starts to pace again._

 _"Once we connected what you were doing, to our own search for Acnologia, we figured we could kill two birds with one stone. Potentially find him, and then before you could do anything illegal, arrest you—"_

 _"So I had no choice but to testify if I wanted a reduced sentence," she finishes softly._

 _He nods._

 _"I built up a tolerance to Devil's Breath before we really started to develop this operation, because I wanted to be the one to do it," he told her, meeting her eyes again. "I wanted to be the one to approach you, and not just because we've been through the same thing…"_

 _She waits._

 _"But I also wanted to help you"_

 _Tears prick the backs of her eyes._

 _She knows. She knows he means well. Even if she hadn't seen it in the months they'd spent together it was all over his face. It was in how he carried himself. It's just who he is._

 _It's also the source of her fate._

 _"But you've killed me, Haru."_

 _His eyes widen at that. "What do you mean?"_

 _"Not you specifically," she swallows the growing dread in her gut, "but the second you guys decided to recruit me for your little plan, you gave me a death sentence."_

 _"Elie, what're you—"_

 _"I'm dead," she chokes, bringing a hand to cover her mouth. "I mean I know I've been dead for a long time but fuck…why did it have to be this soon."_

 _Haru steps toward her, "There's witness protection—"_

 _"You guys couldn't save my mother," she sneers, "and he has enough money to bribe anyone into murder and help them get away scot free."_

 _"He won't be able to—"_

 _She shakes her head, "Haru. If you guys pull me in to testify, even in witness protection he will find me." She watches the way his eyes glass over. "And if by some miracle he doesn't, I go to jail. He has connections. He. Will. Find. Me."_

 _Haru opens his mouth to say something but he doesn't get the chance._

 _"And even if it's just money he wants," a pained smile crosses her face, "he'll kill me right after since I'm the reason he's in jail. He won't care about money at that point and he'll dedicate everything to seeing me miserable and then dead."_

 _Tears fill Haru's eyes._

 _"And if by some miracle he even decides to spare my life," she bites her lip, "he will go after others, or—"_

 _She looks to Haru._

 _"You," she finishes. "He could go after you, and I can't—"_

 _She falls to her knees, face in her hands, as sobs wrack her curled up frame. She's only alone for a second before Haru's arms encircle her and draw her into him._

 _"Elie, I'm going to do everything I can to—"_

 _"You can't," she managed between sobs. "You can't. There's nothing you can do."_

 _She cries, aches, wails into his shirt as he only holds her tighter._

 _He finally breaks the silence._

 _"You need to leave," he tells her. "Right now."_

 _She looks up at him, "What?"_

 _He pulls a phone out from his pocket to check the screen, "They haven't heard anything, but they definitely didn't miss that shot and backup is going to be here any minute." He looks back to her. "So you need to be gone."_

 _Her heart swells._

 _"So you didn't lie about that," she mutters to herself._

 _His brow furrows, "Lie about what?"_

 _"Loving me," she says._

 _He's silent as his hands come to cup her cheeks._

 _"No," he declares softly, "I've never lied about how I feel for you. Through words or actions."_

 _He's beautiful, and kind, and precious._

 _She needs to protect him._

 _She brings one hand from where it's clutching at his shoulders, down to the inside of her back pocket. Her fingertips slide over plastic and pull a tiny dime bag out into a closed fist._

 _She maneuvers it to dig her thumb in to separate the plastic seal, but her wrist is soon caught in Haru's grip._

 _He pulls it out from behind her back and eyes her last remaining dose of Devil's Breath._

 _"Elie…what are you doing?" he asks._

 _Tears fall down her cheeks._

 _"Haru," her voice cracks, "you have to kill me."_

 _He freezes._

 _"What?"_

 _"Please," she breathes, "you have to."_

 _He shakes his head and swipes the drug from her fingers, "No. You have to run."_

 _"I can't."_

 _"Yes," he stands and pulls her to her feet, "you can. Get the hell out of here."_

 _"If I run, now that you're here, they'll arrest you for letting me go," she shakes her head, "and I can't be responsible for that."_

 _"Even if I get arrested, I won't be in jail for long, Elie," he squeezes her hand._

 _"Long enough for you to get killed by the guys you put in there."_

 _Haru's stopped breathing at this point._

 _"Either you arrest me and I get killed," she says, "or you let me go and you get killed, and I can't live with being the reason you've died."_

 _"And you think I can live with having killed you myself?" his voice strains as he forces the words out._

 _She runs her hands up his arms, "I'm going to die either way, at least let me choose."_

 _He shakes his head as tears glisten down his cheeks. "Elie, I can't."_

 _"Haru," she pleads. "I can't do it myself. It won't fit with your profile. Me dying before I catch Acno? They'd look into it. You have to do it."_

 _His head bows to fall on her shoulder._

 _"Let me protect you."_

 _"Elie…"_

 _His head moves against her neck as he shakes his head._

 _"You know what he does. Don't let him do that to me."_

 _Please._

 _He sucks in a shuddering breath and pulls away from her._

 _He leans down to grab the gun._

 _"You don't have to be in control," she tells him when he's upright again, and she reaches for the hand with the Devil's Breath._

 _He snatches it away from her._

 _"If you're going to die, you're not dying at the hand of some mindless zombie," he spat._

 _She let her hands fall._

 _She can hear sirens, and from the way his head snaps at the sound, he can hear them too._

 _He reluctantly turns and looks directly at her, "This is what you want?"_

 _She nods, "Please."_

 _He takes a step closer, bringing up the end of the silencer to press just between her breasts. Even though it's not against her bare skin this time, it's still warm from having been fired._

 _He chokes on a sob._

 _"Tell me to stop," he begs._

 _"Hey," she says softly, taking his face in her hands._

 _He opens his eyes to meet hers._

 _"You believe in reincarnation, right?" she asks._

 _He nods._

 _"Then you aren't killing me," her voice is thick. "You're setting me free."_

 _He bites his lower lip and she pulls him down to kiss her. His tears are salty on her lips and tongue._

 _As are hers._

 _The pressure on her sternum increases as he pulls away._

 _"And hey, who knows," she forces a smile, "maybe you can find me again."_

 _He nods._

 _"I love you."_

 _She can feel it._

 _He loves her._

 _She can ear the sirens._

 _He kisses her._

 _She can see the red and blue lights flashing behind her closed eyelids._

 _He rests his forehead against hers._

 _She wipes his tears._

 _He pulls the trigger._


	6. Rule 3

_**A/N:** Never would I have imagined receiving the support and response to this story that I've gotten. When I thought this up over 6 months ago, I couldn't have thought people would love it as much as they do, and as much as this is something I've written, it wouldn't have happened if it weren't for you guys._

 _Enjoy._

* * *

 _Rule #3: For your souls to make amends, in this life you will be mates._

* * *

Her mark burned.

She could feel the bullet rip through her.

Her heart stuttered. Her lungs screamed from lack of breath. She clutched her chest and doubled over. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes and air ripped its way down her throat in short bursts.

They streamed down her cheeks as her muscles contracted and she heaved as her body shrieked, cries so past the point of loud all that came from her was a faint cracking in the back of her throat. Her sight blurred. She was shaking. She could taste blood.

"…y!…"

She couldn't breathe.

"…Lu…!"

She couldn't _breathe_.

"… _Lucy!_ "

There was a sharp jab to her sternum.

At the contact she coughed and sputtered before her breathing deepened. Where she'd been hit, there was a constant pressure, and the feeling grounded her. Her face was tilted up.

Dark blue eyes.

"Lucy, stop…just breathe…" he plead.

Stop? Stop what?

She looked down to find Gray's palm pressed against her mark, her chest streaked in blood.

She started to hyperventilate.

"Lucy!"

Her breathing didn't slow, but her eyes came back to focus on Gray.

"It's okay," he held her jaw so she couldn't turn away from him. "Just look at me. Breathe. It's okay. You're okay. You. Are. Okay."

She swallowed.

"Tell me that."

She couldn't find her voice.

She _couldn't_ find her _voice._

She stared up at Gray, wide-eyed, full of panic, and one of his hands came to curl around the back of her neck, fingertips digging into the muscle and rubbing small circles. Her shoulders loosened and shrugged forward while her head tilted slightly to one side, eyelids fluttering closed.

" _Breathe_ , Lucy. It's okay."

She did.

"Can you stand up?"

She shook her head.

She couldn't _move_.

Tears still fell. The pain that had blown through her front had sent such a shock through her spine she was paralyzed. Her heart thudded hard beneath Gray's palm, the only thing she could currently feel.

"I…" her voice was hoarse, "I can't feel my body, Gray. I can't get up."

Gray let his hands drop and Lucy bit her lip at the sight of the blood on _them_ as well. He caught her staring.

He reached for her wrists and flipped them palm up, fingers curled. They were covered in bright red with chunks of skin under the nails.

"You were clawing at your mark," he told her. "You're only bleeding a bit. You're not dying. You're okay."

"I'm okay?"

"You're okay."

The wave of relief that washed through her left her falling forward and Gray caught her. His arms came around to draw her close, and the secure contact helped her heart to slow.

It didn't stop her crying. It only made it silent.

"You were right," she choked on the words and swallowed at the prickling in her nose. "I wouldn't have believed you."

His hold on her tightened.

"Fuck," she breathed, digging her fingers into his back and burying her face into his shoulder. "Fuck."

He just held her.

Once her breathing evened out and her blood stopped ringing in her ears, Gray pulled away and helped her to her feet. She faltered slightly when pins and needles started crawling their way up her legs, and he steadied her by the forearms to help her sit up on the conference table.

She was still numb.

"Gray…?" her vision blurred and she reached in his general direction.

He answered her unvoiced need by grabbing her hand and coming to stand in front of her. She grabbed for his biceps and gripped, hard.

If it was hurting him, he didn't say anything.

She just really needed something to hold onto right now. Her body didn't feel like her own and she could still feel that bullet. Each nerve ending pricked with a heat that radiated out her spinal cord with every thrum of her heart against its rib cage.

The contact was the only thing keeping her sane at this point and the silence was killing her. She was too stuck in her head. Too stuck in Elie's head. It was nauseating.

As if he could hear her, Gray's voice filled the empty room.

Soft. So soft.

"I'd been searching through the buildings across the street from the restaurant, since that's where your shot had come from," he started. His voice was careful, even. It was something to focus on.

The words felt familiar.

"Since it was such a major deviation from what we'd expected you to do, it threw our whole plan out the window."

The case report. He was reciting the words of the case report, almost to the letter.

"Our Unit Chief wanted to send in squad cars right after that bullet flew wide, but I convinced him to give Haru a bit more time, and volunteered to go ahead," he continued, enunciating each word with a practiced tongue. How many times had he read the damn thing? "He wasn't too happy about that but gave me a few minutes head start."

Her heart slowed, but still pounded. She could feel it in her throat.

"When I found him…" his voice was barely a whisper, "…fuck."

Her stomach churned.

"The bullet went straight through your heart, so by the time I got there you'd already bled out on the floor. He was hunched over you," he swallowed and took a breath, "he looked like he was going to rip his hair out."

Her eyes stung. This was new. She hadn't read that last bit.

"He didn't even notice I was there until I was trying to pull him away," he smoothed his hair back from his forehead and ran his thumb along the thin scar just above his left eyebrow. "Knocked me right over, hard enough to split skin. Even then I don't know if he knew it was me."

She couldn't feel her breathing anymore.

"That report you saw on Friday," he paused until she looked up, "wasn't written by him. The statement you read was something he just kept repeating to himself before he grabbed his gun and ran."

"You wrote it," her voice was a little hoarse.

He nodded. "He wasn't there and I was his partner. I knew the most about his days undercover and I was first on the scene. I was the next best thing to him writing the report himself."

"He didn't come back to do the paperwork?" she asked.

He shook his head and gave her arm an absent squeeze as he stared past her, eyes glazed over, "No. He just…disappeared."

His voice was barely there. Shaking.

"Because the paperwork fell to me," he cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders back, "I was able to write it in a way that technically told the truth…while keeping him as safe as I could."

He looked back to her.

"I knew that he hadn't wanted to kill you. It didn't take a genius to figure that out between his phone calls, how he would gush about you, and get angry at what the endgame was," he smiled smally, "and it was even easier for me since we'd been partners for so long. It takes a lot for him to get excited enough to not be all business, and even more for him to break his cover. In all the time we'd been partners…I'd never seen it first hand. Even when he was tortured.

"He's not one to break easily, Lucy," Gray's jaw set, "in this life, and in our last one. It takes a lot to get him mad. It takes a lot for him to cry. And as Haru…I have never seen him look that broken."

The intense set of his eyes and the severity of his tone left her frozen.

"That man loved you with everything he had. Don't you ever think otherwise."

A shock shot its way down her spine, another bullet that this time left her tingling. Her body felt foreign and those words left a pang in her heart.

"I only heard from him again a year later," his tone was softer now, and Lucy was able to relax. "He wouldn't tell me where he was. He only called to tell me everything that'd happened that night. Asshole didn't even really let me get a word in before he hung up the phone," he let out a hard laugh at that.

Lucy wrapped her arms around Gray's neck and tugged him in close.

His fingers dug into her sides.

"That fucker probably went and got himself killed," his voice was raw, forced, "and if he'd just told me what he was doing, I could've helped."

Lucy bit back tears. She could feel it. Gray's pain. Every bit of anger, and frustration, and loneliness and grief. It was in his voice. In his hands and body as he refused to relax into her hug. He was still trying to stay strong.

"We both know what he did and where he went, Gray," she said softly. "Just because I died, doesn't mean he would have stopped looking for Acnologia. If anything, it probably reinvigorated him."

He nodded and she tightened her grip on his shoulders.

"He went after him," Gray's chest quivered against her own and she felt him bite his lip from where his mouth pressed into her shoulder. "He went after him so he could kill him this time, and he didn't want to drag you down with him."

"Idiot," he croaked, "always trying to save people and never letting himself be saved. I could have helped him."

Whether this was how Gray was feeling now, or remnants of how he'd felt as Musica, Lucy wasn't sure. She knew all too well the guilt that came with the death of someone you felt responsible for, and those kids and women hadn't even been related to her or close to her.

She couldn't imagine how Musica must have felt, with no-one to talk to because breathing a word of what he knew or assumed would immediately put his partner in a place where he could've been arrested.

"You protected him," she whispered.

"I failed."

She shook her head. "If he died, it wasn't your fault. It was the fault of the person who killed him."

"Still—"

She pushed Gray away by the shoulders, "No. Not _still_. You did everything you could. Everything. You could." He wouldn't look at her, but she knew he was listening. "Even if you'd said something, it wouldn't have changed anything. You did nothing wrong."

His jaw locked.

She made him look at her, hands on either side of his face.

"You did nothing wrong," she repeated.

The soft smile that pulled at the corner of his mouth made her heart soften.

"Sorry," he breathed, "you shouldn't be trying to make me feel better right now."

"I can't even begin to count the times you've taken care of my overemotional, sorry-ass, Gray," she told him, letting her hands drop to her lap. "Don't apologize to me."

His smile was weak, but at least it was there. "Damn, maybe I shouldn't have kept you two apart for so long if I knew I'd be getting a Lucy pep talk."

She smacked his chest lightly with the back of an open hand, "Shut up."

He laughed, weakly.

"We make mistakes, Gray," she said softly. "Mistakes that aren't always within our control to avoid. Maybe because we're trying to protect someone, or because we don't know any better because we don't have the knowledge."

The immense number of mistakes she'd made when dealing with Natsu…the detriment her lack of education when it came to Inflictors and Marked outside of her usual world had caused… _that,_ she couldn't control. She hadn't known. She hadn't known there was anything _to_ know _._

"Finding yourself in a situation where you are uneducated, and making mistakes because of that isn't your fault, and you can't do anything to change your mistakes," she said, weaving her fingers together.

She looked back up at him.

"But," she took a deep breath and let out a sigh, "we can make sure it never happens again. We can make ourselves aware of whatever we need to, to make sure we don't make these same mistakes. That's what we _can_ do. That's how you stop feeling powerless.

"That's how you show that you've learned," she finished.

Gray nodded, glazed over eyes coming back into focus as he took a deep breath and straightened himself up. He didn't need to say anything. She knew he'd listened. He'd said it himself. We come back again and again to learn. She was just telling him a different version of what he already believed. Of what he needed to do to make his past memories count.

And that's what she needed to do when it came to Natsu.

She was wrong. She was so wrong. She was wrong about what she'd assumed, but even before that she was so wrong to assume in the first place. She could say that. She could say she was ignorant and selfish. She could apologize. But that didn't change the fact that this never should have happened in the first place.

She should never have treated Natsu the way she had, or made him feel the way she knew she did, and it shouldn't have taken her reliving the truth for that to occur to her.

"Oh my god, he's going to hate me," she breathed, hands coming up to her face. "He was right…he was so right and I didn't listen and I should have and—"

Gray pulled her hands from her face.

"He doesn't have it in him to hate you," he brushed a lock of hair out of her face. "He's just going to be glad he's not a 'murderer' as he put it."

Lucy shook her head. "Once he stops being grateful about that he's going to hate me for how I acted."

Gray squeezed one of her hands. "Even if he did—which he won't, believe me—what are you going to do about it?" he raised an eyebrow. "You gonna run away from your problems?"

Lucy narrowed her eyes, "That was one time, Gray. One time."

He crossed his arms and continued staring at her, expectantly.

"No," she finally answered, looking down at her swinging feet. "I'm not. I'll do everything I can to make up for it."

"Good." The fondness in Gray's voice was unmistakable. "You both deserve no less."

Lucy stared at him again, confused.

Gray chuckled. "He deserves relief from the agony he's been in for years, and you deserve relief from all the pain you've been through as well. You weren't murdered, Lucy. You were killed because you were loved enough to be shown mercy."

She bit her lip, hard, to avoid the wave of emotion that hit her.

She'd been loved?

For almost eight years, Lucy had believed that she'd been murdered. That there was someone out there who had hated her enough to shoot a bullet straight through her heart, by someone who she'd trusted enough to be close enough to do so, or maybe kidnapped and killed. Either way, the pain and dread that she'd felt at the fact her life had been taken maliciously from her by another human being that she would have to face and then relive her death with, had plagued her constantly. She'd never even considered an alternative.

…she'd been _loved._

Her head fell against Gray's shoulder and her hand came up to rub at her mark.

She hissed at the contact.

"You okay?" he asked.

Lucy leaned back and pulled her hand from her chest to get a look at the damage. Her skin was angry, pink around the scratch marks and a darkening red where the blood was drying. With her focus now on it, she could feel the aching of her raw nerve endings.

"Ow," she muttered out, tone laced slightly with awe.

"Yeah," Gray breathed, thumb coming up to press lightly around the edges, "we should probably get you patched up."

Lucy nodded, hopping down from the table once Gray backed away. She found herself falling into it as her hand slipped and she hissed at the wood digging into her hip.

"Owww," she whined, bouncing on her heels. Could she go just a few seconds without hurting? Like at all?

Gray just smiled at her, amused.

"Traitor," she grumbled, grabbing the folder she'd slipped on and shoving it into Gray's chest. "You deal with it."

"What is it?" he asked, flipping open the cover.

"An updated file on the alley-shooter-guy," Lucy sighed, crossing her arms low to avoid aggravating her already irritated skin. "You're backup, right?"

Gray nodded, "Yeah, Gajeel mentioned that before leaving. Said they'd found a match running a picture from one of the street-cams through fa—"

He stopped.

Lucy saw Gray's eyes glaze over and his body freeze. It was only for a second, but it was long enough for her to notice.

"Gray?"

His gaze snapped over to her.

"Gray, what is it? What did you see?" Her stomach sank as he just stared past her. He didn't answer her.

The folder fell to the floor.

"Gray?"

Gray snarled under his breath and instantly fell to his knees to gather the sheets as quickly as he could. The crumpling of paper was loud, and a lot of the files were crinkling and bending in his haste. She reached to help, fingers coming to pick up a photo.

Lucy froze.

"Lucy," Gray started, voice hesitant, "I don't know what's going on here, but you don't have to deal with hi—" he was cut off.

It took her a minute to realize her hand had come up to cover Gray's mouth. The other still held the photo. She couldn't tear her eyes away.

Dark hair, peppered with silver. Cleanly shaven, a stark contrast to the last memory she had of him. A thinner face than she remembered—or maybe just a different shape, she couldn't be sure. The eyes were the same, though they'd gone cold over the years.

Natsu was in trouble.

"Gray," she swallowed, "we have to go. You have to take me with you."

He stood straighter and his features hardened, "Not a chance, Lucy, he's been looking for—"

"Me, Gray," she choked. "He's been looking for _me_."

He shook his head, a puzzled expression on his face. "How would he even know about you? He's never met you in this life, and that's the way it has to stay." Gray's eyes narrowed and his arms crossed as he stood.

She shook her head and followed, coming to lean back on the edge of the table. She wanted to laugh at that. At the absurdity of the situation. But there wasn't much time for that.

A part of her wished she'd told Gray sooner…but she didn't often talk about that part of her life to anyone who didn't already know about it, and that party had been limited to her mother.

Even then, there wasn't much she could have done. As much as fate seemed to be a personified outward force of cruel irony, even she wouldn't have seen this coming.

She should have told Gray sooner.

"Acnologia killed my mother," she managed a deep breath, each shudder working its way through her muscle to calm her down.

This wasn't new information to Gray, so he just waited, arms securing themselves tighter across his chest.

"My mother, who is… _was_ soul-bound to him because of it."

Gray's brows furrowed at her wording, drawing closer and closer together until they smoothed out and his eyes widened. It didn't take him as long as she'd thought it would to put it together. Then again, this was Gray. She shouldn't be too surprised.

"He's…" his voice fell silent.

Lucy took in another breath to steady herself and blinked slowly before looking him straight in the eye. "Yeah," her voice wavered. "The guy you're looking for is my father."

…

Flashing red and blue lights pierced the backs of her eyes as Gray came to an abrupt stop in the pub's parking lot. The previous police tape had been shredded and replaced, now crossing the entrance as well as blocking the alley, and one of the large front windows was covered in what looked to be a large sheet of black plastic.

There was also an ambulance.

Lucy had never gotten out of a car so fast.

""m fine, fuck off," she heard Gajeel snap. She rounded the corner toward the back of the rig to find him swatting at the paramedic's hand. His head had been wrapped in gauze, red seeping through a patch just above his temple.

"I need to check how you're clotting—"

"I swear to god I'll arrest ya," he snarled, "so fuck off and _go find Natsu you fuckin' idiots!_ " Gajeel's head whirled back in the direction of the cops out in front of the pub.

"Gajeel?" Lucy's voice was soft.

He turned to her.

"Blondie," he breathed, moving to stand up. The paramedic reached for his shoulder but he shoved him off. He landed poorly on his feet and staggered slightly.

Lucy snuck under one of his outstretched arms to keep him upright.

"Gajeel, I know you hate sitting around doing nothing, but you really need to sit right now," she said softly, guiding him back toward the ambulance.

He shook his head, "I can't just sit around 'n' do nothin', Lucy."

"And you can't be going and getting yourself killed and leave Levy all alone, eh, Pops?"

Gajeel blinked at her.

"Yeah," Lucy said, smug, "I noticed. Now sit the fuck down."

She gave him a half-hearted shove until he obliged. The paramedic pulled at the dressing to give it a check, and then at his eyelids to check his pupils.

"What happened?"

The question came from behind her. Gray had caught up and was glaring at Gajeel with narrowed eyes. It was the clenched jaw and the way he swallowed that told her Gray was nervous. Really nervous. Not angry like most would assume.

Gajeel rubbed at his forehead, "We parked about a block or so from here so the car wouldn't give us away. We both know our way through the back alleys, so it wasn't that hard to keep quiet."

Gajeel shoved at the paramedic who finally seemed to give up and walk away. "We spotted 'im fairly quickly, and split up to try and corner 'im so he couldn't run. Asshole knocked me over the head with his damn gun." He brought a hand up to prod at his temple. "Any lower an'…well…let's just say the guy hits hard."

They waited for him to continue.

"Next thing I know I'm on the ground, everything is foggy an' Natsu's sayin' somethin'. Then there's gunshots, but I'm fuckin' bleeding so I can't fucking see and all I can hear is a car door and then nothing," Gajeel shook his head and then winced. "I'm such a fucking idiot. I swear I checked my six."

"You sure he got in a car?" she asked.

Gajeel nodded. "Had to. We've been surveying this area and haven't found anything and I doubt he'd keep a cop close by."

Lucy looked up at the tarp-covered window.

"He'd have to threaten someone to get Natsu to go with him," Gray muttered, and Lucy looked over to see he was looking in the same direction she'd been. "Probably fired a warning shot into the restaurant."

Lucy nodded.

Gray turned back to Gajeel. "How long ago did this all happen?" he asked.

Gajeel looked away for a second with a furrowed brow. "Uh…maybe twen'y?"

Gray cursed under his breath and stalked away. "Hey! Lieutenant!"

Lucy turned to Gajeel, "If you move from that ambulance, I will deck you. The rest of the precinct can take care of it."

He smirked at her, "Ya talk like yer a cop, blondie."

She smiled, "If not on paper, then at least in spirit I'm with you guys."

Gajeel nudged her calf with the toe of his boot, and Lucy took that as her cue to catch up to Gray.

Who was on the verge of pissing his lieutenant off.

"I'm his partner, Erza," Gray wasn't having any of it, "why the hell didn't you call me?" He was tense all over, fists clenching at his sides, ragged breathing.

Erza looked both bored and irritated with him with her arms crossed.

Jellal was with her. The intensity of his stare on Gray was anxiety-inducing.

"I called you. She called you. We _both_ called you. Many times. If you checked your phone and voicemail, you would _know_ that," each word was louder than the last as Jellal's eyebrows came together and his nose crinkled, "and since yes, _your_ partner, seems to have been _kidnapped_ , we thought it prudent to try and _help_ him as fast as we can, and we can't be doing that if we're _waiting_ on _you_."

Gray swallowed.

"That good enough for you, _Fullbuster_?" Erza asked, taking a few steps closer. She spoke softly with narrowed eyes, searching his face for an answer and raised a brow in question when he gave no response. "Yeah? Then can we get back to doing our jobs and have you _help_ instead of lecture me on how I go about getting back one of _my_ detectives?"

Gray clenched his jaw and turned away, hands digging into his pockets and yanking his phone out.

Lucy came up next to him.

 _7 missed calls. 3 unheard voicemail(s)._

"Fuck," Gray's fingers flexed around the body of his phone. "It was on silent. They were trying to call me the whole fucking time." He pressed the face of his screen to his forehead before knocking the side against his head a few times.

Lucy came round to stand in front of him. She pulled his hands from his face. "You know now. So start thinking instead of literally beating yourself up about it. You said it yourself, Natsu's tough. He'll be alright for a bit."

Gray sighed. "Idiot doesn't break easily, doesn't mean he doesn't get into trouble on an annoyingly frequent basis. I'm surprised I haven't had a damn heart attack ye—"

Gray's phone dinged.

"We've got co-ordinates," he breathed, opening them up in the map program. "Took them long enough."

Lucy's eyes widened.

—

 _The little flashing blue circle is seven hours away._

 _Seven hours if by some miracle there's no major traffic on the highway, or car accidents, or any other possible detour that could pop up and divert her very focused attention._

 _"Elie!"_

 _Like him._

 _She breathes deep and glances sideways to Haru._

 _"What?"_

 _He's looking at her with soft eyes, reading her._

 _She must've spaced out longer than she'd thought she did._

 _"I was asking if I should be helping you look for a place to take these guys," his gaze is narrow._

 _She shakes her head, "No. I doubt we'll find him anytime soon. Don't worry about it."_

 _Haru folds the final cardboard box flap into the others and hoists it up, "Is there anything you want me to keep an eye out for then? Just in case I see something in the next town?"_

 _"Uhhh…" she shuffles behind him as he walks out the door of the motel and plops their clothes safely in the back of the car. Everything she could really tell him would be common sense and still end up being the wrong kind of place._

 _She glances up from the blue blinking light. "I'll have to show you."_

 _With a soft grunt and that last box out of the way, Haru shuts the trunk and comes up to lean against the passenger door. "Show me?"_

 _She nods, "There's…there's a place I need to be today. It's seven hours away, which is pushing it, but there's a good example there, so…"_

 _She trails off and rubs at her face. How could she have lost track of time like this?_

 _"Hey."_

 _She looks up._

 _"Do you need me to drive?" he asks._

 _She looks from Haru to her car. He's never driven it before since she's pretty anal about its maintenance…_

 _But she's distracted, and that could end up being more detrimental than beneficial._

 _She fishes her keys from her pocket and holds them out to Haru who just blinks._

 _What's he waiting for._

 _Slowly, he bypasses the outstretched chain and takes her hand instead, dropping it low with the weight of his fingers and running his thumb over the backs of her knuckles. She breathes deep at the contact and blinks slowly before looking up with just a hint of a smile._

 _He takes the keys from her, shuts the open motel door, and climbs into the drivers seat all in one swift motion._

 _How does he always know what's going on with her?_

 _Is she that easy to read?_

 _Or has she just let her guard down more than she thought?_

 _She doesn't know which one would be worse._

 _She starts the navigator and sticks her phone in its cradle before Haru can ask. She may be a little out of it today, but she's not totally useless. She was fine to drive last year, so why is it so hard this time? Why is her stomach churning?_

 _She swallows down the guilt._

 _Had she…had she really forgotten?_

 _Tears prick the backs of her eyes._

 _How horrible a human being is she to have forgotten. Of all the days in her life, the only one that really matters anymore, is today. She always remembers. Always knows about it._

 _Is Haru that much of a distraction? Is having someone else around, who actually makes her smile once in awhile, enough to…_

 _She bites her lip._

 _She's terrible._

 _When she feels Haru's eyes on her and she sees him reach for her in her periphery, she rolls over in her seat and pretends to fall asleep._

 _She draws blood from her lower lip to keep her crying silent._

 _Fingertips on her forehead startle her from a sleep she didn't realize she'd fallen into. The skin on her cheeks is tight and she wipes at the tear tracks she knows Haru can see in the setting light from the sun._

 _She hums in question and looks down to where Haru is crouched on the ground just outside her open door._

 _"I got us as close as I could, but I don't think I can drive through trees," a slight smirk quirks up at the corners of his mouth and she lets out a breathless laugh._

 _"I dunno," she undoes her seatbelt and sits up, rubbing at a throbbing temple, "I think this forest could use a good bulldoze."_

 _Haru chuckles and offers her a hand._

 _She takes it._

 _He doesn't let go as he follows her into the trees._

 _Twigs snap under their feet as they navigate around tall trunks and under low-hanging branches. Pricks of sunlight stream through the cracks in the leaves and dance over the swaying grass. She follows a winding path, marked only by how thin the green is in comparison to the rest of the small forest._

 _It's always beautiful in spring._

 _Then again, that's the only time she really comes here, so she wouldn't know otherwise._

 _She veers a little to the right, bypassing her usual route to overshoot the path a little. It's not too far from where she needs to come back to and she tugs Haru along by the hand._

 _His fingers tighten around hers._

 _They break through the tree-line into a small clearing._

 _There are petals_ everywhere _._

 _They blanket the ground, a few fallen trees, and the stone roof of the mausoleum nestled in the corner of the flattened ground. Though the green of the grass is barely visible, tons of blossoms still bloom from the overhanging trees._

 _Petals continue to fall with the breeze._

 _"Wow," Haru breathes from beside her. "This is—"_

 _"I know."_

 _She gives his hand a tug and leads him over to the small stone building. The wood of the door shows even more of a state of decay than she'd seen the year before, rot eating away at the corners and between the boards._

 _It'll definitely fall over soon._

 _"This place is in the middle of nowhere," she tells him, setting her fingertips against the wood, tracing the lines and whorls, "it's off the map, there are no records of this place available to civilians, and it's mainly made of stone." She knocks her knuckles lightly against one side of the entryway._

 _"Wouldn't something in town be like this too?" he asks._

 _She shrugs. "I dunno. Maybe. Places like this make me feel safer though. Cities are too crowded, you're always looking over your shoulder. But here?"_

 _She looks up at him._

 _"The woods swallow up the sounds of their screams."_

 _There's a flash of something in his eyes. Anxiety, maybe? Fear?_

 _She's never seen it from him before._

 _Her stomach rolls at that and she lets his hand go. If what she'd said really bothered him, she wasn't going to keep him with her._

 _"You can go back to the car if you want," she says and turns, heading back the way they came. She had to remind herself sometimes, that what she did wasn't normal. That people were scared of people like her. Hunting down people like her. Even if her intentions—though in a very grey area—were more on the side of doing good than bad, she was still a criminal. She still hurt people._

 _There were people who would run from her. Call her a monster. Have nightmares about the things she does to the con men she chases._

 _It bothers her that Haru could possibly feel that way._

 _She's harsh today. But she feels she's allowed to be. Of all the days to be like this, and of all the days to resent the person and the people like_ him _that put her mother six feet under…_

 _The sunlight bleeds orange as it wraps around the moss-covered tombstones. Some have faded letters._

 _Others…are just a slab of rock in the ground._

 _It's cool beneath her fingertips as she sits in front of the abandoned grave. Tiny vines have started crawling their way up the sides and into the cracks, with even smaller blossoms and leaves growing from them._

 _She brushes some of the dirt away, and a few of the pink petals that seem to have managed to fly over to the abandoned cemetery._

 _She traces the carving she'd made herself, since the cops hadn't bothered to do it themselves. Their reasoning that, 'It could be dangerous if the order was flagged and tracked,' or 'If they found the grave they may be able to find you,' was absolute bullshit to her._

 _She didn't fucking care. Their excuses were pointless. There was no weight to them._

 _The indents were starting to fade from weathering, but were still visible enough she wouldn't have to redo it this year. Next year, definitely._

 _"Hi, mom," she whispers. The cold from the ground seeps into the seat of her jeans, chilling her skin and making her shiver. "I'm late today…I'm so sorry. I—"_

 _She bites her lip._

 _"I_ forgot _," she chokes. "I forgot. I can't believe I forgot. I never…I never forget, and—"_

 _She can feel the tears welling._

 _"I didn't mean to." They fall. "I didn't mean to forget. I swear. I—I just…"_

 _She can't help the hitches in her breath as they turn into sobs. Her forehead presses against the stone as she slumps forward, gripping at the edges with painfully white knuckles. Her fingers curl, nails dragging against the rough surface until they bend back, but she doesn't care. She doesn't feel it._

 _She doesn't feel the cold that wracks her body. She doesn't feel the breeze that pricks at her skin and whips her hair. She doesn't feel the dampness of the ground wet her crossed legs._

 _She only feels the wrenching of her heart from its chest._

 _A weight comes over her shoulders, fabric with warmth still clinging to it._

 _For some reason that only makes her cry harder._

 _She knows his hands by now. She knows the callouses of his fingertips as they trace her hands and arms, as they brush hair from her eyes or dig into her sides to tickle her. She knows his strength that moves her from the TV after a bad day of watching news reports. She knows he'll often pull her away from what she clings to so she can hold onto him._

 _He doesn't do that today._

 _He sits behind her, legs bent at the knee on either side of her waist, and flattens his chest against the curve of her spine. His fingers find her hair and comb it back and away from her face before he holds her to him tightly._

 _He doesn't move her. He simply joins her._

 _He lets her cry._

 _When the sun is on its last rays and the cicadas have gone silent, she whispers. Soft. But in enough silence that he'll hear her._

 _"Fuckers didn't even have the decency to bury her properly," she tells him. "They stuck her out here where nobody would ever find her."_

 _She feels him tense. The movement is fleeting, almost nonexistent, but she feels it._

 _She pushes up from where she's leaned against the tombstone, and he readjusts as she leans back into his chest, letting the back of her head fall against him, her temple to his cheek. "I get why they did it. Protocol. Protection. Whatever. I get it but…"_

 _She reaches out to touch what remains of her mother's grave._

 _"She was my_ mom," _her voice cracks. "She deserves so much more than this." She lets her hands fall and feels Haru tighten his hold around her waist._

 _"She deserves to be_ alive, _" she manages._

 _He doesn't say anything. Only bows his head and rests his mouth against the skin of her shoulder. He doesn't kiss her. It's not sexual. It's acknowledgement. Silencing of himself. Listening to her. Hearing her._

 _Why is he so good to her? What has she ever done to deserve…_

 _"Why?" her voice is hoarse. "Why are you…"_

 _He shakes his head from where it's pressed to her before moving away and standing up. She shivers at the sudden loss of heat, but quickly finds herself pulled to her feet and wrapped back up, tucked under his chin._

 _"You're a beautiful person, Elie," he says softly. "We all have darkness and we've all done things we're not proud of. Some more than others. But at your core…you're…" his voice falters._

 _Her stomach churns._

 _"It's getting cold," he mutters into her hair, securing his jacket tighter around her shoulders. "We should find a hotel for the night."_

 _She nods._

 _He turns back in the direction they came and she walks back over to the grave. Her fingers trace the top of the stone so lightly it tickles._

 _"I love you, momma," her voice is barely there. "We're going to find him."_

 _She looks to the tree-line where Haru stands, bright hair turned silver in the growing moonlight and lack of surrounding street lamps. Wind whips his bangs across his eyes and ruffles through the folds of his clothes. He looks just how he did the night she met him with how his hair had started to grow out._

 _He holds out his hand to her._

 _Her fingers hook over the edge of the stone as she moves toward him, and then fall back to her side._

Momma…I'm not alone anymore.

 _He piggybacks her to the car before maneuvering her once again into the passengers seat and getting behind the wheel. She doesn't really remember getting to the hotel, but the chill of the closed toilet seat he sits her down on wakes her up a little bit._

 _She blinks lazily as he runs the water in the bathtub and takes his jacket back from her._

 _"I got a room that has a kitchen," he tells her, one hand in the stream to check the temperature. "It's stocked, so all I have to do is run out and get ingredients."_

 _She looks at him. "I can come with you—"_

 _He silences her with a shake of a head and smile. "You relax. I'll be back before you know it."_

 _He presses his mouth to the top of her head before disappearing out the bathroom door. She hears the faint click and chunk of the door closing and locking._

 _With a deep breath she stands, flicks the light to the bathroom off, and strips. Her pants and shirt pool at her feet and she slips into the warm soapy water. It brings heat back to her body, right to the bone._

 _She can feel her heart beating in her chest, blood flowing through her veins. Her nerves tingle, her muscles relax, her eyes are tired._

 _Her chest eases._

 _She misses her mom._

 _Her mom loves her._

 _She knows that. She can feel it._

 _The steam works its way up her nose and into her chest, both making it hard to breathe and helping to open it. The sound of the tub filling is something for her to focus on, and when it gets high enough, she uses her foot to shut it off._

 _She sinks down into the warmth, ears below the water but nose above, and her breathing soothes her as she closes her eyes._

 _She doesn't know how long she stays like this, but soon enough she's shooting up at the sound of a clattering and a very loud swearword._

 _Haru's back._

 _What's he done now?_

 _She pulls herself up and out of the tub and grabs a towel. The door's still open, but she can't see the kitchen from where she is, so in the few seconds it takes her to get covered, she doesn't have to worry about him popping in out of nowhere._

 _With a towel wrapped around her chest, she lazily trudges toward the kitchen. She can't see much more than a chunk of the tile through the doorway from this angle._

 _Blood. Spattered on the floor._

 _Knife. Red on the blade._

 _Her stomach drops and her heart rate picks up as she makes a dash to the kitchen._

 _"Haru?!"_

 _He blinks at her from where he's perched on the table there. Crosslegged. String in his mouth and needle in hand, brow furrowed in concentration as he turns back to the task at hand._

 _"Hmm?" His voice is muffled slightly where his lips are closed. The thread is tangled and he uses his free hand to pull the slack he's got straight._

 _She can't believe what she's seeing._

 _"What the_ fuck _are you_ doing _?!"_

 _He gaze returns to her, blinking, again, and looks back and forth between her and his hand. He hooks the string around one of his lower canines so he can answer properly._

 _"Giving myself stitches?" It's not a question, but his voice turns up at the end like it's the most obvious and common thing in the world for him to be sitting on a table in the middle of a hotel using a needle and thread on himself._

 _"Fucking hell, Haru," she crosses the space between him to take his hand gingerly in hers, "what did you do?"_

 _She takes the needle from his left hand—the guy was right handed for fucks' sake, why was he trying to do this himself—and secures it between two of her knuckles as she takes a look at the cut._

 _The idiot had managed to sever through a good inch of the webbing between his thumb and index finger, and deep into the skin further up from that._

 _Yeah, this wasn't something to wrap up. If he wanted it to heal well enough for him to have almost full mobility again, he was going to need stitches._

 _He'd already done all the ones on his palm. Minimal blood-loss if the lack of excessive red on the hand towel next to him was anything to go by._

 _She sighs at the haphazard stitching._

 _"You're so bad at this," she finally meets his eyes, "why didn't you just tell me?"_

 _He shrugs, "It only looks bad cause I was using my right hand. If I'd hurt my left, this would be a whole different story."_

 _She shakes her head, "How'd you even hurt your right hand anyway? Wasn't that the hand you were using to cook?"_

 _He shook his head, "I actually use my left for cooking."_

 _She just stares at him, incredulous, "Seriously?"_

 _He nods._

 _"That's an oddly specific thing for you to be left-handed for," she comments, setting the side of his hand down on his knee and pulling close the first-aid kit of theirs he'd gotten from one of the boxes. There were a few things of gauze he'd scattered beside him on the table._

 _"I learned when I had a few broken fingers," he tells her. "It just kinda stuck."_

 _She nods, grabs a pair of gloves and pulls them on, then takes a sterilized wipe and rips it open._

 _"There's freezing stuff in here," she looks back to him, "I managed to grab it once. Never had to use it. I can if you—"_

 _He shakes his head, "It's fine."_

 _She quirks an eyebrow, "Haru, this is really gunna hurt, especially with the deeper tissue—"_

 _"It's fine."_

 _His gaze is hard, dark, firm. No room for negotiation._

 _She swallows at the energy he's exuding and falters._

 _She manages to find her words._

 _"Are you sure?" she asks, quieter than usual, and he seems to pick up on it. His expression softens exponentially, more pained than angry now._

 _It throws her off._

 _"This is nothing," he whispers, looking away from her._

 _Something about how he says it makes her heart clench._

 _…nothing in comparison to what?_

 _She holds the tip of the needle to the next severed bit of skin she needs to pull together, hesitating._

 _This'll be the first time she sews someone up to help and not because she's hurt them._

 _He doesn't so much as flinch as she digs in._

 _They're silent with the exception of their breathing as she works, doing her best to maneuver the straight needle in a way that won't cause him more pain than necessary. She hadn't thought to pick up a curved one…there was never a need._

 _She definitely would be getting one on their next supply run._

 _Her head snaps up at a shuddering intake of breath, but the furrow of his brow she sees isn't one of pain._

 _He keeps his gaze directed on his hand._

 _She waits._

 _So does he._

 _"Do you remember when I asked you if you believed in reincarnation?" his voice finally breaks the silence._

 _She nods and pulls at another stitch._

 _He doesn't so much as wince._

 _"A few years ago," his voice rumbles deep in his chest, despite how softly he's speaking, "my roommate had a stalker."_

 _Her movements pause briefly before resuming. Past telling her about his mother having been killed by Acno, he doesn't talk much about his life before their partnering up._

 _"The girl was a little off her rocker," he continues._

 _Out of her peripheral, she can see him look away. "At first she just followed him around, tried to talk to him, asked him a bunch of weird questions," he swallows, "but we didn't think much of it at the time. It happens._

 _"I wasn't until she'd started claiming that they'd dated before in a past life and getting mad that he didn't remember that he started to get really freaked out, especially when we could see how her face changed." His voice is low and soft and she glances up from where she's working. His brow furrows and he bites his lip._

 _"Face changed?" she asks, barely a whisper._

 _"Like she was an entirely different person," he says, drawing his free knee up and slinging his other arm over it. "Her whole demeanour changed. Her voice. How she spoke."_

 _She hums. "DID maybe?"_

 _He shakes his head, "That's what I thought at first, but there was something about it that felt wrong…different."_

 _She pulls at another stitch._

 _"He eventually got a restraining order against her," he continues, but pauses. When he doesn't continue she chances a look at him and can see his breathing stagger, despite the sound being even._

 _He presses a closed fist to his chest._

 _"So since she couldn't get to him…" he trails off._

 _Her stomach lurches._

 _"She got to you," she finishes for him._

 _He nods and brings his free wrist to his mouth, scratching at the skin with his teeth briefly before letting it drop again. She follows his movement closely, and under the fluorescents of the kitchen…_

 _She can see the skin is faintly discoloured._

 _How had she never noticed that before?_

 _"She didn't just get to me to get to him," his voice breaks the silence. "She blamed me for being the reason she'd lost him in her past life, and refused to let the same thing happened again."_

 _"Did you kill her or something?" she asks._

 _He shakes his head. "No, that was done by someone else. She claims that's why we couldn't remember and she could."_

 _"Sounds pretty made up to me," she mutters._

 _"I thought so too." His fingers twitch at another stitch. "But I don't know…there were a few times when she had me that she was…I don't want to say normal, but different than the person she was in her pursuit of my roommate." He rubs at his eyes with his free hand. "Though I couldn't remember specifics, looking at her felt like a constant state of déjà vu. It was fucked."_

 _His leg starts bouncing and she pauses with the needle._

 _"She blamed me for her pain and death," he picks at his fingernails with his thumb, "but if she wanted to see my roommate I couldn't_ look _hurt."_

 _Her heart plummeted._

 _He bites at his lower lip and his breathing finally stutters._

 _"Elie," he rasps, "do you know what waterboarding is?"_

 _Tears prick the backs of her eyes and her mind goes blank. Her breathing quickens. She drops the needle and closes her eyes, digging the heels of her palms into them. Her fingers curl into the wet hair at the front of her scalp and tug._

 _Now's not the time to be falling apart. Not when this didn't happen to her._

 _Her body jerks as calloused hands pull hers free of her face. Her stomach rolls at hid sympathetic expression as he brushes the hair from her eyes. He shouldn't be taking care of her right now._

 _Her fingertips find the stubble of his jaw and cradle the soft skin of his cheeks._

 _He leans into them as her thumbs brush for unshed tears._

 _"Why are you crying?" he asks._

 _She shakes her head. "Because she….and I tied you up…and…"_

 _He turns his head to press his mouth into her palm. "Hey, I'd've tied me up too. Don't worry about it."_

 _"But—"_

 _He silences her with the brush of a thumb over her lips. "You've got nothing to be sorry for."_

 _She bows her head, "I'm still sorry anyway."_

 _"It's okay."_

 _She lets her hands fall and return to tying off her last stitch before cutting it with scissors from the kit._

 _"Did you clean it first?"_

 _He nods._

 _She runs a swab with alcohol over it again anyway. He takes a deep breath in at that, but nothing more._

 _"So…do you believe in reincarnation then?" she asks._

 _When she gets no answer, she looks up at him, only to find his eyes trained on her._

 _"When I got out, I did some research into the stories she told me," he glances away briefly, "and though some stuff would be readily available for the public, there were a few things obscure enough that there was no way she could know without having been that girl."_

 _She pulls out a roll of gauze and a pad and starts wrapping his hand._

 _"I don't know if I believe her story," he says, mumbled, "but it was something to consider when it came to what I already thought. So if I do, it's not because of her."_

 _Her fingers work quickly, gently, leaving enough slack to not cut off his circulation._

 _When his hand is finally taken care of, she tentatively traces the lines of his nose and mouth and his eyes flutter closed at her touch._

 _"How many times did she end up killing you?" she whispers._

 _He shrugs. "I lost track of how many times I blacked out and a few times when I woke up again my chest really hurt, so…at least once."_

 _He's not looking at her when exhaustion takes over and he falls forward to her chest, loosening the towel around her bust ever so slightly, but it holds. She just combs through the soft hair at the nape of his neck in response._

 _His arms come around her, and his fingers dig hard into the flesh of her hips beneath the thick cotton. Firm and a little uncomfortable, but not enough that she couldn't tolerate it._

 _And when she feels the skin of his cheeks slick against her bare collarbone, she presses her lips to the top of his head as he shakes._

—

She knew that place.

"We only sent the request in five minutes ago, Gray," Erza's voice sounded from behind them and they both jumped. "About ten minutes ago, and the last known signal was in the middle of nowhere. He probably isn't there anymore, so we're looking into this guy's past—"

She'd been there before.

"He's there," Lucy breathed, cutting her off.

Erza and Gray just stared at her.

"That's _not_ the middle of nowhere," Lucy grabbed Gray's arm and dragged him back toward the car.

"Yeah, it—"

"No it's _not_ ," she argued, brushing past Erza—

Who caught her arm. "Lucy, what do you think you're doing? You're a civilian—"

"And the only one who right now can lead you to Natsu," she finished, gaze hard. "So you can either take my help, which will be quicker, or canvas an area with more people than you really need, risk tipping off the _guy with the gun_ , and probably end up with a dead cop and friend."

Erza looked stricken.

Lucy couldn't believe she was talking to her this way. She and Erza were familiar with each other, and even friends, sure, but she was also the Lieutenant. People didn't talk to Lieutenants like that. Not ever. _She_ never talked like that to anyone in the precinct, period.

But right now, she was what her father wanted. She was the best chance they had.

Erza let her go and Lucy started back in the direction of Gray's cruiser.

"I'll explain in the car," she looked back over her shoulder to Erza, "just get everyone there quick! He's there! I promise!"

Lucy barely had enough time to close the door to her side of the car before Gray was flicking his siren on and speeding down the road and onto the highway. Gray leaned into the horn, barely slowing down as he weaved his way in and out through rush hour traffic to get to one of the side lanes. Lucy couldn't find it in herself to be worried about how erratic he was being.

She was too anxious to care.

"You know when she finds out about this guy being your dad, she's going to kill you, right?" Gray asked, eyes forward.

"Yeah," she whispered, "but right now I'm the best chance you've all got at getting Natsu out safely."

"By giving him what he wants?" his voice raised in pitch at that, and Lucy could feel his aversion.

"He wants me," Lucy said, "which means Natsu is alive and we have a chance. If I can get through to him—"

Gray's phone was then ringing and with the click of a button, Erza's voice filled the car. Sirens wailed in the background—the sound was echoed. Lucy could see lights flashing a few hundred feet back in Gray's rearview mirror, so she must've gotten in pretty quickly too. _"Talk, Lucy."_

Lucy grabbed Gray's phone from where he'd tossed it into one of his cup holders and pulled up the coordinates.

"So he either dropped his phone, or it was broken, right?" Lucy asked.

 _"It's not currently transmitting."_

Lucy nodded, "Right. He's not at the co-ordinates—"

 _"Then why are you telling us to go there?"_ Erza snapped.

"— _specifically,"_ she finished, loudly, _"_ but he _is_ at an abandoned mausoleum that's close to his last known location." Lucy zoomed in on the map nearby, finding no buildings or landmarks when switching on the satellite view. "It's probably overgrown by now since there doesn't appear to be anything new on the map, so it's definitely still there."

 _"How do you know this?"_

Lucy swallowed, "Because I—the me of my past life, took past-Natsu there once. That's the only thing that could possibly be there."

 _"Lucy—"_

"Erza, just trust me on this, okay?" she asked, softly.

 _"Fine."_

She hung up.

Gray glanced at her before looking back to the road and accelerating further. "You wanna elaborate?"

Lucy sighed. "As Elie, I used to find abandoned buildings in the middle of nowhere to bring the con men," she started, "that way, nobody could hear them scream and there was less of a chance of someone finding them.

"So one day," she inhaled deep, "Nats— _Haru_ , asked me to give him an example of where I would bring Acno when we found him, so he could keep an eye out for a good area." She held up the phone. "I brought him here."

Gray raised an eyebrow, "And how'd you find it?"

Lucy looked away. "I found it one day when…" she trailed off.

She just…

Gray's hand found hers and gave it a squeeze.

She didn't have to say anymore if she didn't want to.

Light from the street lamps whizzed by over Gray's cheekbones from outside the car. His eyes stayed forward, focused, hands clenched on the wheel. She didn't need to ask to know where his head was.

There was no way either of them were going to lose Natsu. Not again. Not after she'd died and not after he'd disappeared.

…disappeared.

"Gray?" Her voice was hesitant. Fearful.

He grunted in response.

"Natsu said something," she said softly, eyes now forward, "something I hadn't thought about before. A pattern I hadn't seen."

Silence. He was waiting.

"He said that people are usually born in or close to the town where they died," she bit her lip, "and I know that he was adopted, but…wh—was he born near here?"

She heard Gray's sharp inhale.

"Do you think…" she tried again, but trailed off.

She looked back over at Gray, who's mouth was pressed into a hard line. His knuckles were white. His nostrils flared. Brows drawn together.

His silence said everything.

Fate was cruel sometimes.

She wondered what Natsu would remember.

"We need to get there first," she whispered. "Step on it."

Gray's engine roared.

…

If there hadn't been tons of trees, Lucy had no doubt Gray would have driven straight off the dirt road toward the last place Natsu had been. But since someone decided it would be a good idea to plant some, there was no way they weren't going forward on foot.

The abandoned car that most likely belonged to her father was evidence of that fact.

They were unbuckling their seat-belts and throwing the doors open before Gray'd even cut the engine. It was dark. Really dark. There were a few street lamps behind them from where they'd come in, and a few others that were burnt out and run down.

Usually Lucy liked crickets, but the silence made her heart race. They'd eventually lost Erza, and she'd called on a few memories of various shortcuts from the neighbourhood back when she'd been here with Haru.

"There won't be a lot of time before they catch up," Lucy turned the flashlight on on her phone, but it barely did anything to illuminate the trees, "but we can't wait."

"Luce," Gray called her and her head snapped up in his direction just in time to catch the flashlight he tossed.

It was big. It was bright.

She breathed a sigh of relief and shined it toward the tree-line. There were a few broken overhanging branches in an otherwise large sea of fallen leaves.

Lucy pulled up the coordinates on her phone's map program.

He hadn't been that far.

Gray pulled a gun from the holster at the small of his back and crossed it under the wrist holding his flashlight. "Let's go."

She nodded.

They took off at a run as fast as they could whilst rounding trees and avoiding low tree branches. Things crunched under their footfalls. Bird calls echoed. The light from the lampposts faded even further. The only solace was the bright reflection of the sun on the moon, and the only reason they could see it at all was the lack of leaves.

If fall hadn't been her favourite season before, it was now.

Blood pounded in her ears, breaths ripped from her throat, her arms pumped.

Her phone beeped and she skidded to a halt.

The two of them panted as they turned to face each other, looking around.

"Do you think—" she sucked in a large gulp of air, "—his phone died?"

Gray shook his head. "He—" he coughed, "—always plugs—the damn thing in—" he swallowed. "It's never _not_ —charged."

Lucy tapped a hand against her chest just over her pounding heart while shining the flashlight all over and kicking at the leaves at her feet. Maybe he'd dropped it and it shattered, or—

Light reflected off of something and she threw herself down to her knees, dropping her flashlight as she dug into one of the piles.

" _Ow_ ," she hissed, yanking a hand back and sticking her thumb in her mouth. The other was careful to hold the sides of Natsu's phone. Why'd she cut herself on—

Light from Gray's flashlight shone over her shoulder and Lucy's stomach dropped.

There was a bullet hole through the lower right part of the screen, and blood smudged over the silver of the back.

"Fuck," Gray breathed.

Tears pricked the backs of Lucy's eyes and she stuffed Natsu's phone in her other sweater pocket.

"Lucy?"

She looked up at Gray who pointed behind her, just past her head.

To a smear of blood on a nearby tree trunk.

She took a deep breath as she walked up to the tree and shone her flashlight around at the rest of the forest.

There was another smudge a few feet away.

"That way?" Gray asked.

He was just as scared as she was if he was asking her questions. Especially when he wasn't looking for answers. He wasn't scared of Jude—Acno. With the number of times she knew he'd stared death in the face and never flinched, there was very little situationally that could scare Gray when it came to himself.

But this wasn't about him. He wasn't scared for himself.

Lucy nodded and they started for the next tree. And the next. And the next.

Until they came upon a tombstone, covered in dirt, moss, vines and grass.

Gray knelt down beside the tombstone with her and brushed the overgrowth away from the haphazardly scratched-in letters. They were so faded, Gray wouldn't be able to make out a name, but Lucy knew. Flashlights illuminated row after row of varying heights of eroded stone. Some were cracked and tipped over, some were mounds of green, there was even one halfway stuck through a tree.

Lucy yanked Gray up to his feet.

"I know where to go from here," she pulled her phone out and turned off the ringer, "turn your phone on silent let's go."

Gray just stared at her, "Why—"

"Erza can still track us, Gray," Lucy swallowed, "they're not far behind, but if they try calling us and our phones go off…" she trailed off.

"I don't think this is a goo—" Gray cut himself off as a breeze brushed the hair back from his face. His eyes widened. "Do you…do you smell fire?"

Lucy turned in the direction of the wind, and the smell of charred wood washed over her.

She snapped back around to Gray, but he was already heading toward the smoke.

The amount of trees lessened enough for them to switch their flashlights off and go just by the moonlight. When Lucy could see the glow of fire through the trees, she grabbed his arm to stop him and placed a finger to her lips when he looked to her.

The mausoleum's shape looked mostly similar…

With the exception that half of it was caved in, and the surrounding trees were jagged, tall trunks with no branches. She remembered the large, colourful trees with beautiful blossoms. The petals that rained down on the roof of the mausoleum and coated it in a lovely pink.

That tree was gone now. Just a large pillar of wood with no limbs.

What the hell had happened.

Light flickered from behind the last remaining wall of the mausoleum, a soft orange glow that danced over the surrounding trees and fallen stones. Wind whistled through the rock and whipped Lucy's hair around her face.

She felt something cold touch the back of one of her hands, and looked down to see Gray offering her a gun.

"Remember how to shoot?" he asked in a hush whisper.

She nodded, and her stomach sank.

Was she going to have to shoot her father?

They crept out of the tree-line and stayed out of sight and, careful to avoid any loose rock, only stepped on grass or solid concrete.

With the wind out of their ears, they could make out voices.

"If the point is to kidnap me, isn't setting a fire kind of redundant?"

That was Natsu.

His voice was hoarse, and a fit of coughing followed the question. It quickly devolved into loud hacking and Lucy bit her lip when she heard him spit.

That sound was never good.

"Not if you want to be found," was the reply.

Lucy's blood ran cold and the threat of tears from earlier came back full force. She knew that voice. She knew her father's voice.

Of _course_ she would know her fathers voice.

How it rumbled deep in his throat in the morning when she sat down to the breakfast he made her.

How he'd laugh when she rode on his shoulders when they'd go apple picking during harvest season, or if she just needed to get something off a high shelf and he'd tease her for being so small.

How soft it was next to her, when he held her hair when she needed to be sick.

How lyrical it was, when he would sing her to sleep after she had nightmares.

The memories shot up her spine and pierced her temples, shocking her entire system and she had to bite the heel of her thumb to choke back a sob. Her heart wrenched in her chest. Ached.

A voice she hadn't heard in over ten years…and she didn't know why.

A voice warped into something snide that she'd never heard before.

A voice that had her father's tone, pitch and timbre…but wasn't his.

"Besides," the voice lured, "last time I checked, you were a big fan of fire."

"Damn," Natsu breathed, "I thought you were dead when I did that."

"Almost," her father answered, "but not quite. Blood loss makes you lethargic, and you can lose consciousness but you don't necessarily die when you pass out."

There was a brief pause.

"Speaking of, how you feeling?"

"Peachy," Natsu sneered. "I could run a marathon."

"On that foot? I doubt it."

Another fit of coughing.

"Why do you want her anyway?" Natsu asked once he'd steadied his breathing again. " _I'm_ the one that killed you."

"Yeah," he replied, letting out a gush of air, "but _she's_ the reason you ended up finding me, remember?"

Silence followed. The fire crackled.

"I would've found you anyway, even if she hadn't died," Natsu argued.

"You wouldn't've dangled her as bait if she was alive."

"And you're baiting _her_ now, even though she's your _daughter_?" He spat out that last part, obviously disgusted and Lucy bit her lip to suppress a new wave of hurt.

"Ah…she's now his daughter…isn't she? Well, doesn't that make it better."

"Why the hell're you talking about her like you aren't her dad?" Natsu asked. "What's wrong wit—" he cut himself off and Lucy heard him draw in a sharp breath.

"It took me _years_ to take his guy over," he hissed, "and _she_ was the reason why. _She's_ the reason I was killed, and _she's_ the reason I _stayed_ dead.

"When she was born? He started remembering. Her mother started remembering. They started researching. They found out who she was. They found out how she died. The report was lying, of course, I would remember that from what you told me before you killed me. And the guilt…oh the guilt they both felt…beautiful. Just beautiful," he snickered.

"And I found my way in. Just an emotion at first. Anger at how I'd died. That's all it took. That little voice in the back of your head? The one of your past self? The shrinks all tell you that it's okay, that you can work through it, and the emotions are in the past and you're not that person. But do you know how dangerous it can really be?"

Silence.

"You do now.

"But he had more control. Once in awhile I could take over, and having him knocking around back there felt so, damn good. But every time I got close, he pushed me back. Made them leave. Did everything to keep me away from them. Hell, I would've missed them again this time if—" he cut himself off with a roaring laugh.

"Oh, man, that bitch killing herself was the best thing that could've happened to me," he lured. "I only regret not being the one to do it again."

"You—wh—" Natsu paused.

Lucy couldn't breathe.

"I'll never let you get to her. _You_ don't get to be the reason she dies again."

She shook her head. She couldn't let him do this. She couldn't.

"And what is it you can do about it exactly?" her father's voice sneered. "You're pretty fucking useless right now."

"Don't underestimate me," Natsu coughed again.

Lucy looked to Gray and when she had his attention, pointed to the other end of the mausoleum wall, gesturing for him to go there and wait. Gray narrowed his eyes and shook his head, but Lucy just continued, adamant.

If they had any chance at all, he couldn't know Gray was here.

'He can't know you're here,' she mouthed, and Gray clenched his jaw, but relented.

Lucy tightened her grip on the gun.

She peeked around the corner, and her stomach dropped.

Anger clawed up her throat and into her nose and teeth at the sight of the man who'd killed her mother, at the memories of hunting, the grudge and her rage.

Pain and longing pressed down on her head and eyes and chest at the sight of the man who raised her, who she missed constantly, who she'd wished she would see again.

But not like this.

Never like this.

He held a gun at his side in the hand closest to her. Natsu's back arched over a fallen tree trunk, feet stretched out in front of him, one hand cradled to his chest and the other pressing into his stomach.

He didn't look good. Light from the fire reflected off the sweat on his face. He breathed heavily and blood stained his lips and the corners of his mouth.

Where was that blood coming from? She didn't see any gunshots near his stomach.

She had the shot. She needed to take it.

In one swift move, she rounded the corner, stared down the barrel, and fired.

The kickback was harsh and she stumbled a little—she wasn't used to Gray's gun after all—but she recovered quickly, keeping aim firmly on her father. Her shot hit and he lost his grip on the gun. It landed next to the fire, and he snarled at her, gripping his bleeding palm with his uninjured hand.

No…this wasn't her father right now. Right now this was Acnologia.

The sneer quickly turned into a grin.

"I knew you'd find us," he tilted his head to one side. "Took you longer than I thought though."

"Yeah, well," Lucy swallowed, "trees aren't easy to navigate in the dark."

"Lucy," Natsu choked and she saw him wince, "get the hell out of here."

"No," she told him, "he'll kill you if I do."

"He'll kill me anyway," Natsu countered, "and I'm not a civilian. Leave."

"Shut up, Natsu," Lucy adjusted her grip visibly. His eyes followed her movement and widened slightly at the sight of the gun in her hands, of just _who's_ gun it was.

Lucy blinked once, slowly, before looking back to the man in front of her.

She wasn't alone. Granted…they didn't have a plan…but she wasn't alone and was good at thinking on her feet.

Her heart tugged.

"Dad?" Her voice was tentative, she felt like she was five again. "Are you in there?"

"Sorry, sweetie," Acno smiled, "not gunna happen."

"Dad, please," Lucy bit her lip and clutched the handle tighter, "please come back."

Acno smirked and took a few steps toward the gun on the ground.

" _Don't. Move_." She followed his movement, keeping her aim, but her voice faltered. He could see her hesitation. He could see she was bluffing.

She wasn't. She wasn't bluffing.

Was she?

"You wouldn't shoot your dear, old, dad." It wasn't a question. He spoke with confidence as he came to stand next to the pistol.

"Daddy," her voice cracked, " _please_. _Please_ come back."

"Daddy?" Acno raised a brow. "Even after he abandoned you, you're still a daddy's girl?"

Lucy shook her head curtly, "You said it yourself. He did everything to keep you away from us."

He smirked, "Or was that just a convenient excuse to get rid of the little pest biting at his ankles since it was born?"

She knew it wasn't true.

That didn't stop it from killing her.

"You'll never know, will you?"

Tears blurred her vision. She tried to bite them back, but they fell.

"Don't listen to him, Lucy," Natsu rasped. He could barely keep his head up, his muscles strained and struggled just to stay upright.

She didn't want to.

She saw Natsu look away out of the corner of her eye, and she readied herself as Acno reached for his weapon, but he was right. She couldn't pull the trigger.

Two shots rang out as Acnologia hit the ground.

Lucy's heart leapt in her chest at the sight of Gray staring at Acnologia with disdain. A look that morphed as he swallowed and glanced down.

He brought a hand up to his stomach and pressed his fingers lightly against the black of his shirt.

They pulled away red.

"Gray?"

She noticed another area, blooming blood, just below the right side of his collarbone.

He fell to his knees, hard, barely able to keep a hold on the gun as he collapsed back against the rock of the mausoleum.

She could hear the crack of his head from where she was standing.

" _Gray!_ "

The screams came from both her _and_ Natsu.

"You really think I didn't know he was there?"

Acno pushed himself up from his spot on the ground, running his thumb along the barrel. "This thing shoots like a dream. Barely need to brace myself when I fire it." He eyed Gray. "Not as good with my left hand, but it'll do in a pinch, so," he cracked his back and turned to Natsu, bringing it up to aim, "who first? You or her?"

Lucy prepped to shoot again, but with a quick look from Acno she found herself disarmed. Her wrist bent back as the gun ripped from her grip, and she cried out at the pain radiating up her forearm.

"Pity," he sighed, "I was aiming for your hand."

Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, "Why? Why are you doing this?"

Acno's gaze went dark. "Why don't you ask _him_?" he gestured toward Natsu with the gun. "Ask him what he did. Go ahead."

"Nothing you didn't deserve, I'm sure." She probed at the muscle around her wrist. Tender, but not broken.

"And I'm doing nothing different than what you two did," he advanced on her, step by careful step, "only I'm avenging my own death instead of someone else's." The face of her father warped into a livid scowl, and her heart lurched. She fought the urge to close her eyes.

"He was right to kill you," she rasped, flinching as Acno stood a foot from her and traced her cheekbone with the backs of his fingers. "You were killing children."

"What's the difference?" he asked, voice low. "They're all the same anyway."

"Children are innocent," Lucy snarled, and looked to Gray. He'd slumped against the rock and fallen onto his side. She could see him breathing. Shallow, but still breathing nonetheless. "They have nothing to do with—"

"Children are ticking time bombs." His fingers weaved into her hair and yanked her gaze back to his. Her jaw clenched at the sting and she bit her cheek to hold back any sound. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. "It's only a matter of time before they grow up to fuck shit up. I'm doing the world a favor."

"Is that what your parent told you?" Lucy asked. "That they should just do the world a favor and kill you? Was that it?

Acno froze at that and let her go. "Don't pretend to know me, you little bitch," he spat.

"We both know she's right."

They turned to look at Natsu, using his forearms to prop himself up as best he could.

When he bent too far forward, he hissed and fell back, gripping at his stomach with his injured hand.

"I know your file inside and out," he slurred, trying again to sit up, "I know where you were born. I know who your parents were. I know what they did to you."

"Shut up."

Natsu continued.

"I know your first con. I know your first kill. I know your aliases."

"Shut _up._ "

"I know about the kids you knew about, the ones you'd fathered but never cared for the rare time you left the women alive."

Acno cocked the gun and aimed it at Natsu. "Shut the _fuck_ up."

It didn't even phase him.

"I know why you do what you do. I know about the woman that fucked you up."

"You don't know shit," he hissed.

"She broke your heart, didn't she? And you tried to get that back, and when you couldn't you decided the best thing you could do was destroy them," Natsu sneered at him, "and if they had kids, you'd kill them both because you saw them as you, right? But you hesitated."

A shot rang off and splintered the bark next to Natsu.

"Is that why they were all blonde? Is that why you left Elie alone for as long as you did? Because despite the fact you hated her, part of you couldn't bring yourself to kill her? You knew she was looking for you and stayed ahead of her. You knew about her. You left her alone."

The muscle in Acno's neck tensed as he swallowed and gritted his teeth.

"So what's different now? Why this time? Why do you hate her enough _now_ do to this?"

Another shot. This time in the ground right next to his thigh.

"I'm fucking warning you, kid," his breathing staggered.

"Is it because Jude has what you always wanted but could never have? Are you jealous of _yourself_?"

Lucy inhaled sharply at the jab of hot metal to her sternum.

The calm that smoothed over Acno's features had her blood running cold.

"I don't know what bullshit you think you're trying to pull," he said slowly, giving her another jab, "but this is because you _killed_ me, and there's no way you're getting away with that." Dark eyes focused on her. "Think it'd kill him for you to get killed the same way as last time? To watch you die how he murdered you?"

"Don't you fucking dare," Natsu growled.

Lucy focused in on Acno's hand.

Muscle tensed and went slack. His wrist shook and his index finger strained against pulling the trigger. He was trying.

He was struggling.

"I don't think you can," she told him.

Nostrils flared. Eyes turned black. Lips twisted.

A shot rang out.

 _"Lucy!"_

She heard it whiz by her ear, and the heat sear into the flesh there.

He missed at point blank range.

 _Dad._

She didn't have much time to take advantage of Acno's shock. This was her… _their_ only chance.

"Looks like you don't have as much control over him as you thought."

Ignoring the pain in her right arm, Lucy snatched for the barrel and snapped it back to bend his wrist as quickly as possible and rip the gun from his hand. Her muscle throbbed in protest, but she couldn't much care right now. Not with the roles reversed.

"You think you can shoot me?" he stepped forward, and she stepped back. "Can you shoot your dad? Would you be able to forgive yourself if you did?"

Lucy rolled her shoulders back and took a deep breath. She didn't want to do this. But similar to what she'd done in her past life…this wasn't just about her anymore. This was about Gray and Natsu too.

She steeled herself and gripped. "My dad would rather I kill him than watch me die."

She aimed for the shoulder and pulled the trigger.

 _Click._

What?

She tried again.

 _Click._

No.

Again.

 _Click._

"No," she breathed.

The clip was empty.

Acno's answering grin was feral.

She heard Natsu scream for her as stars exploded in her vision, Acno's backhand sending her down hard on her hands and knees. Her wrist bent once again, pricks at the backs of her eyes choking off her ability to speak.

Not much longer. She just needed to hold out a little longer. Erza shouldn't be far now.

She closed her eyes and the tears fell. Gray had gotten shot twice because of her. Natsu was nearly unconscious, and though her dad wasn't the one sentient at the moment, he didn't look too good either.

She blinked to clear her vision.

Fire glinted off a nearby metal surface.

The gun she'd dropped.

She moved to get closer, but her weak hand was knocked out from under her and her shoulder hit the ground hard, dazing her.

One look in his direction had her seeing Acno with his back to her, and the faint metallic clicks told her he was checking the clip.

She made her way over to Natsu instead, crawling as fast as the throbbing in her head would allow.

He stared at her with pained, worried eyes. "Lucy," his voice cracked, "please run."

"I can't," she breathed. "I can't leave you here. I can't leave you. Not again."

She'd managed to make it to Natsu's feet when Acno's voice broke through the crackling of the fire.

"You know why now? Why I could do this _now_?" he asked. A faint _chunk_ followed by a few other sounds, and the gun was definitely loaded.

"Because when your father saw the news article about your mother," Lucy heard the shuffling of clothing and one glance over her shoulder showed Acno now facing them, "he was so angry. He was angry at _her_. Years of his life wasted. Gone. Pointless because she just killed herself anyway. So angry. So easy to manipulate. To completely take over."

Behind him in the trees, Lucy could faintly see a flash of white light.

"Lucy, please," Natsu begged, "go."

Another flash.

She could do it. She could protect him.

Throbbing cause her to falter and stumble. She pushed herself up, but a boot between her shoulder blades forced her back down to the dirt.

"Bastard," Natsu snarled, "piss off!"

She saw Natsu struggle to get up to go to her, but Acno moved the heel of his boot from her back to one of Natsu's feet to stop him. "Stay down, boy. You'll just kill yourself faster, and I want you awake for this."

Acno pressed more weight into Natsu's foot. He hissed in response. Had he hurt it?

" _Stop!_ " she shrieked. " _Please,_ Dad, _stop_ him!"

Natsu panted heavily as Acno let up, and relief eased the muscle in his face. Lucy bit her lip as she felt Acno come down on the ground beside her.

"Daddy's not home anymore," Acno lured in her ear, knee now bending her spine into the ground. "I pushed him down good and deep. It's just you and me now."

Lucy bit her lip and turned her head to meet Natsu's eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Natsu," she choked out, "for everything. I'm so sorry."

"Lucy—"

"Seems like I had more control over him than you thought," Acno sneered.

Lucy heard him pull back on the hammer and shivered at the press of metal to the back of her skull.

" _Lucy!_ "

"Seems fitting to finally kill you the way I did her."

 _Please, Erza._

She closed her eyes and bit her lip and flinched when the shot rang out.


	7. Theory 3

.

* * *

 _Theory #3: Inflictors are born with the scars acquired in their previous lives; the only ones carried over are those gained at the hands of a member of a soul-bonded pair—past, present, or future._

* * *

She couldn't remember screaming, but with how raw her throat was, she had to have been for awhile. At the paramedics when they moved Gray, Natsu and her father's bodies, and again when they wouldn't let her ride with them. At Erza when she refused to let her drive Gray's cruiser, and instead stuffed her in the back of her own. At the doctors in the ER when they burst in to look for them. Again when they made her sit down to splint her wrist and check her head because _she wasn't the one who was dying right now_.

She only stopped once Gajeel dragged her by the arm to the waiting room and sat her down in one of the chairs there. The cushions were plush, comfy. They'd have to be if you had an endless number of patient's family members waiting for hours on end.

She hated it. She fucking hated it.

"Shouldn't you be in a bed somewhere getting checked out?" Lucy glared at Gajeel, voice raw. Her anger was misplaced, she knew. It was unfair.

Gajeel knew that, and didn't really care.

He shook his head and slumped down next to her, elbow on the arm of the chair, and the uninjured side of his head resting against his fist. He let out a long sigh. "Nah, they cleared me. No concussion. Damn miracle's what it was."

"Yeah, really," Lucy let out a breathless laugh.

Her heart slowed, and with the lack of noise her head finally stopped yelling at her, but the silence of the waiting room pounded against her ears. She covered them with her palms and bent over to rest her elbows on her knees. It was too loud. It was too much.

She flinched away from the hand Gajeel rested on her back.

"Sorry," she heard him mumble, and Lucy turned to look at him and shook her head. Normally she would welcome that kind of comfort, but her nerves were on fire, her brain was wired, and she couldn't calm down. It was too much.

"No, it's okay," she told him, clenching her eyes shut and letting her hands fall from her head. "It's just…I can't…" she bit her lip, "it's too much right now."

Gajeel nodded, "I get ya, blondie. No need to explain yourself to me."

She smiled at him gratefully.

Lucy's head snapped up at the sound of footsteps.

Erza rounded the corner, Jellal behind her. With them were Levy, Romeo, Natsu's parents…

And the Chief himself.

Fuck.

Lucy ducked her head, even though she knew she couldn't hide. Her heels bounced, burning off only some of the energy she felt curling in her chest and gut.

She stared pointedly at Makarov's shoes as he came to sit across from her.

"Heya, boss," Gajeel rumbled. There was a shuffle of feet and then fabric against fabric as Lucy saw Levy sit down out of the corner of her eye. She heard a soft kiss and then Levy sigh in relief.

"Gajeel," Makarov answered. "You're doing just fine, I see."

"Takes more than a knock to the head to put me outta commission," she could _hear_ his shit eating smirk, "ye know that."

"And I'm never more grateful for that fact." Though Makarov's smile wasn't evident in his voice, Lucy knew the fond look the Chief most definitely had on his face. She'd seen it directed at her many times when helping him out on various cases.

She'd let him down.

Stupid, impulsive decisions had led two of his officers, detectives he considered his own _children_ , to being shot, and the man who did it in danger along with them. If there were any casualties…

"Lucy?"

His voice was too calm, too understanding after what she'd done. It would change soon enough once she gave him her statement. She wasn't ready.

She wasn't ready to lose her only remaining family over this, because that's who they'd grown to be to her. Family.

And she sure wasn't ready for this to be how she met Natsu's parents.

"Look at me, young one."

Lucy's teeth sunk into the inside of her cheek as she wrenched her head up to make eye contact with Makarov.

He was smiling.

"I'm so glad you're safe," he told her, reaching for one of her hands. "You've been checked out by the doctors?"

Lucy shook her head and absently twisted her wrist. "Not really. No need. Nothing happened to me."

Makarov cocked his head to one side, "Your chest."

She looked down.

Right. She'd forgotten about that.

Lucy pulled her hand from his and zipped her sweater up the remainder of the way. "That was my fault. An accident. I got stuck in a memory."

Makarov tilted his head to one side, "Memory?"

She ran her fingers through her hair and let her head hang. "So many," she muttered. "So many…months…months of day after day," she looked up at him. "How has it only been two days?"

"Breathe, child," Makarov said softly, "breathe. Start from the beginning."

Tears filled her eyes and spilled over her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Chief. I'm so so sorry, this is all my fault."

"Less so than you think, most likely," he smiled, brushing hair from her face. Lucy swallowed down the thickness in her throat and drew in a shuddering breath.

"Start from the beginning," he repeated.

So she did.

She told Makarov about her mother—he already knew about her death, of course, but not about Jason—and the article she'd decided to write. About how it lead her to Natsu. That he was her soulmate. That her past and her mother's past were connected.

She left out breaking into her office, and the night she met Romeo.

She told him about who she was. About the con men and the Devil's Breath and the investigation. Who Natsu was. Who Gray was. About Acnologia, how she'd died as Elie, and what it seemed Haru had done after she'd died. She told him about how she knew where her father had taken Natsu, how she and Gray had found them. What Acnologia had said to her, that that wasn't her father right now. Gray getting shot. Trying to protect Natsu.

She told him everything. She tried to speak quietly, so only he and Gajeel and Levy next to her would hear. Levy already knew and she trusted Gajeel, so she didn't mind him hearing. Most of it was about her anyway, so she wasn't much worried about saying something Natsu would get upset about. The room was quiet though, so she knew that even if everyone wasn't actively listening, they were hearing her.

"I thought that if I went, I could stop him," she whispered, balling her hands into fists and pressing them together, "because he's my father. But if you guys knew that, you wouldn't've let me go, and I needed…I couldn't let him hurt Natsu…" she choked. "I needed to do something, but—"

Calloused hands pulled her knuckles apart, and thumbs wedged their ways into her scrunched fingers to release the tension. His palms were warm and he gave her a squeeze.

"There was no telling what might have happened if a group of us had ambushed him," he told her. "I'm not happy about the fact a civilian put themselves in danger, and I'm upset that you withheld crucial information."

She flinched.

"But if you were an officer? We most likely would have come up with that idea ourselves." She looked up to Makarov with wide eyes at his still gentle expression. "And I'm just happy you're alright."

Lucy shook her head, "But _they're_ not."

"They're not _dead_ either, which is what they definitely could have been if you hadn't been there."

"But—"

Makarov tilted her chin back to look at him.

"Do not dwell, young one. All will be well."

A sob escaped her lips. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, _so_ so sorry, sir."

He pulled her into his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around her shoulders.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, Lucy. Nothing at all."

She cried.

She cried for her mother. Her father. Natsu. Gray. Herself. For the time she'd lost with all of them. The things she'd said. How unfair she'd been. How stupid it was that it took something like this for her to rethink everything and wake up. She cried for the guilt warping every part of her body, heavy enough to make her crumble, and the mind-numbing worry that overtook every cell in her body. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't sleep.

"I want them all to be okay," she breathed.

"They will be," Makarov snickered, "they're too stubborn to die."

Lucy bit her lip. She knew he wasn't talking about her dad. She knew it was him who put them all here in the first place, in body if not in spirit, and still hoped he would pull through. She cried for praying that her father was okay, even after Erza had shot him.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated.

"For what?"

She pulled back from the chief and wiped her cheeks. She couldn't talk. She couldn't find the words. She couldn't say it.

It was Erza who came to kneel beside her, low enough to make eye contact even with her downcast gaze.

"It's okay to hope he's alright, Lucy," she said gently. "He _is_ your father, after all."

She covered her face with her hands to hide her silent wail from them. She could barely feel her nails digging into her forehead.

She heard some shuffling and felt some air move before cool fingers once again pulled her hands away.

"It's okay," came a gentle voice, and she weakly looked up.

Romeo.

His face was tear-streaked, bruises still angry, but a little more faded. He was terrified, she knew. He had a good relationship with Natsu, and even if he didn't, he was the kind of kid to be worried.

"It's not your fault," he said softly, "you're not to blame for this. It was out of your control."

She shook her head. It wasn't up to a kid to comfort her. He didn't need that kind of burden.

She forced a smile, "Don't worry about me, Romeo. I'll be fine."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't do that. Don't pretend you're fine when you're not. It's okay to be scared. We can be scared together."

Lucy swallowed.

This boy really was too precious for this world that they lived in.

"You're really something else, y'know?" Her smile was genuine this time. "There's no way in hell you won't be forgiven if you're an inflictor."

Romeo bit his lip.

"And that's a big if," she said gently, "because I just don't think you have that in you, even in another life. Enough people love you to prove that."

Romeo laughed, "You barely know me."

"I've seen enough to know enough."

She watched as Romeo turned to his parents and waved them over. They too were tear-streaked and a little frazzled. They came to sit beside their son, facing Lucy.

This wasn't how she was expecting to meet them. Not like this, and not for a very, very long time.

"This is Lucy," Romeo told them, "from last night. I told you about her, remember?"

God…had it really only been a day since she'd seen Romeo?

She remembered them from inside the car in their driveway, and his father from talking to Natsu at the front door. He'd seen her through the window of the cruiser.

She opened and closed her mouth. She didn't know what to say.

She found the wind knocked out of her by being drawn into a tight hug.

"Thank you," his mother breathed, her voice soft, kind, sweet. "Thank you for helping my boys."

Lucy just blinked.

"But…but I didn't do anything," she argued.

"You eased Romeo's mind about his potential as an inflictor." That came from his father. He smiled warmly at her. "That's plagued him for years, and though he's still worrying, I've never seen him at ease like this, ever."

But…but she hadn't _done_ anything.

"And you protected Natsu," his mother pulled away from her, hands coming up to cradle her cheeks. "You protected him with your life. Twice."

Lucy shook her head, "I put him in danger twice. In each life."

"That doesn't change the fact you saved him, sweetheart," she smiled. "Thank you so much."

"I…" she didn't know what to say. She didn't deserve the looks they were giving her. She'd treated their son like crap for days. "Mrs.—"

"Ferra, dear. Call me Ferra," she turned to her husband. "And this is Macao."

"Ferra," Lucy repeated, "I don't…wh…"

"It's okay," Ferra took one of her hands. "You don't need to say anything."

Lucy could only answer by collapsing forward into her arms.

They held onto each other for a very long time.

…

They didn't hear anything for a few hours, but when one of the surgeons came out to update them, Lucy breathed a sigh of relief.

"Porlyusica," Lucy stood from her seat at the same time as the other officers. Natsu's family followed seconds after.

"Got the whole gang here crowding my waiting room again." Her words sounded harsh, but by now they all knew she hated seeing them because she cared. She'd dealt with all of them enough times that no matter how hard she tried to be impassive, it was easy to tell how worried she often got.

She let out a long sigh and rubbed her eyes, "Gray's suffered two gunshots, through and through. One to the chest and another to the abdomen. We've stopped any major bleeds and it's a damn miracle the axillary artery and liver weren't nicked. Though he appears to have a minor concussion, both pupils are reactive. We're still working on him."

Porlyusica came to sit down by Macao, Ferra and Romeo.

"Second time in a little over a week," Porlyusica clasped her hands together. "I'm sorry we're back here again."

"Thank you," Macao said, softly.

Porlyusica cleared her throat. "He has two GSW's. One to the right hand, another to the left foot. These are also through and through. The one to his foot is mostly just a flesh wound, though X-rays show a hairline fracture.

"His hand has more damage. The bullet shattered the third metacarpal, and we're having to collect he fragments to fuse the bone back together," she explained. "However, that's not the issue here.

"Natsu's sustained heavy blood-loss from pulling his internal stitches from last week. Though the ones on the surface may look well on the way to healing, the ones we put in to repair his stomach and muscle-wall have torn and been bleeding steadily for what looks like hours. We're repairing those and have given him a transfusion."

Ferra leaned forward and rested her head in her hands.

"Never gets easier when he's here," she said, leaning into her husband's touch. Macao wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.

Porlyusica stood. "I need to get back in there," she said. "There's still a ways to go, but I figured I would come tell you they're both doing well and appear to be out of the woods."

"Thank you," Makarov said.

She raised a brow at the Chief, "You shouldn't thank me. You shouldn't even be here in the first place. Every time, I hope I never see you again, yet here you are."

Lucy swallowed. She…she wanted to know…

It was Gajeel who spoke up.

"Porlyusica?"

Porlyusica turned back toward Gajeel.

"The shooter…how is he?" he asked.

She shook her head, "I'm afraid I can't release that information to you at the moment." The dark veil that shadowed her gaze made Lucy's stomach flip.

Gajeel glanced at Lucy. "She can release information to family, blondie," he whispered, soft enough for only her to hear.

He was giving her the choice to speak up, but she couldn't say it, so she just nodded and hoped Gajeel would understand what she meant by that.

He did.

Gajeel stood from his chair and walked over to Porlyusica, pulling her to the side and speaking softly. Lucy saw Porlyusica's eyes widen and that dark veil disappear, replaced instead by pained sympathy.

After a few minutes and pat to Gajeel's shoulder, Porlyusica disappeared.

Gajeel came to sit next to her.

"They're working on him. It's a little touch and go, but they're optimistic at this point. Erza's a good shot. She doesn't shoot to kill," he set a hand on her knee, "so I'd tell you not to worry, but that'd be pointless."

Lucy let out a breathless laugh. "Yeah, really."

Gajeel looked like he was about ready to say something else, so Lucy stood quickly.

"I'm, uh…" she fought curling in at all the eyes following her movements, "I'm gunna go get some coffee. Anyone else want coffee?" she asked.

There were a few murmured requests, and as soon as she'd memorized them, she left.

The bathroom was her first stop.

She let the water of the taps run over her hands and forearms, and then smoothed her cooled fingers down her face to her neck. The fabric of her sweater tugged at the movement and stung her chest.

Right.

Lucy undid her sweater and shrugged it off, setting it down next to the sink. Though the initial redness of irritated skin had faded, it was still streaked in blood and sore.

She tugged the neckline of her shirt down to expose more of her chest. Since there was nobody else in the bathroom, she didn't much care about being modest. Even if someone walked in right about now she probably wouldn't be able to bring herself to really give a crap.

With a sigh, she tore a few pieces of paper towel from the dispenser, folded them into a square and ran them under the water. Dabbing and rubbing in gentle circular motions managed to work with as little pain as possible. Though she couldn't see any on her hands, scrubbing them with soap had the water running a light pink colour, and she picked out the bits of skin still stuck under her nails, letting the water wash them away.

She felt a little better now.

Still needed coffee though.

The hospital cafeteria was mostly empty, a relief to Lucy. The soft sound of chatter and the clinking of pots and pans was dull, comforting, and she found herself able to breathe a little easier. They gave her a tray, and she stuck a few different things of cream and sugar in the remaining empty cup holder. She didn't know really what everyone would want to take, so better safe than sorry.

She carried her own cup and took her first, long, painful gulp. It seared her tongue and throat and made her wince as she rounded the corner back to the waiting room.

Only to come face to face with Ferra, talking to Jason.

"Oh, fuck no," Lucy mumbled under her breath and stalked over.

When Jason saw her, fear flashed through his eyes and Lucy actively avoided expressing how smug she felt at the bruise she'd left on his cheekbone.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she asked, voice low.

"I…uh…" Idiot was stuttering.

"It's okay, Lucy," Ferra smiled up at her, "he's just wondering why I'm here and if everything is okay."

Lucy shook her head. "No. He's not. He's a reporter trying to get a damn story." She looked to Jason. "Seriously, Jason? You can't try asking doctors or nurses? You have to go right to the source in the middle of the worst moments of their lives? Do you have _no_ integrity whatsoever?"

Jason's eyes narrowed. "It's my _job,_ Lucy," he argued.

"I don't give a flying fuck," she snarled. "You're exploiting people in their moments of pain for a story that sure as hell isn't even going to end up as the truth. So you better leave right the fuck now. This isn't even your article."

"Word on the street is the article about your mom is a bigger story than we originally thought," Jason told her, crossing his arms. "So I think this is _very_ relevant, don't you?"

Lucy's stomach flipped.

"Get out," she snarled.

"On what grounds?" he challenged.

"On the grounds of being an asshole!"

"Lucy!"

Makarov's voice sounded from behind her, and she flinched.

Shit.

She didn't miss the smirk that flashed on Jason before he looked openly down at the Chief.

"How you doin', chief?" he asked, offering a smile.

Makarov returned it. "Now why would I tell you that?" he asked.

Huh?

The conflicting facial expression and tone coming from Makarov threw Jason for a loop. Where as his face implied fondness, his tone reflected pure malice. The smile fell from Jason's face, warped now in confusion, as he was approached by the Chief.

"You and your boss have been butting your business into places you don't belong, boy," Makarov's voice was low now. "So you will do well to leave here and breathe no word of what you've learned. You leave my precinct out of this or so help me you will not like where you end up."

Jason swallowed at that. "My boss is—"

"Hades, right?" Makarov cut him off. "Yeah, he and I go way back." The implication of his tone did not put that as a good thing.

Jason was at a loss for words.

"I'll have my own word with him," Makarov crossed his arms. The action pulled up the fabric of his shirt just enough to show that he was carrying. Jason noticed. "But nothing will happen if you leave it alone."

Jason nodded, "Yes, sir. Nothing about your cops."

"This includes Lucy as well."

He froze. "But, sir, that's an entirely different story, people need to kno—"

"Nothing," Makarov growled. "People _need_ to know _nothing_ when it comes to the pain of a family you have no business dealing with. Now leave before I arrest you and throw you in the back of my cruiser for an undetermined length of time."

Lucy had never seen someone run so fast.

She was at a loss for words.

"Chief…I…"

He just smiled at her.

"You're one of us too, Lucy," he said. "I won't have you or your mother slandered by the likes of Hades. Not while I'm still alive and kickin'." He rest a hand on her shoulder. "Tell your mother's story if you _want._ Not because you feel you need to."

Lucy nodded and followed him and Ferra back to the waiting room.

…

Porlyusica looked exhausted the next time she came around, but a faint smile pulling at the corners of her mouth put Lucy at ease.

"They pulled through," she said. "We've got them roomed together."

The collective sigh of relief wasn't audible, but Lucy felt the anxiety leave the room. She let her head fall back and winced at knocking it against the wall. Hissing slightly, she prodded the spot.

"Can we see them?" Romeo asked.

Porlyusica rubbed at her forehead. "Since it's so late, visiting hours are over, which means I _should_ be kicking you out," she started, letting her hand drop and looking back to Natsu's family, "but I pulled some strings to make an exception."

Breathless smiles lit the room.

"But," she sighed and pressed her lips into a thin line, "there can only be three that stay. The rest of you will have to wait, or come back tomorrow," she looked to Macao, Ferra and Romeo, "and since I don't think you'll be leaving your son anytime soon that's unlikely. There's just not enough room."

"Thank you, Porlyusica," Makarov said, standing. "We'd all like to drop in for a few minutes before heading home if that's alright."

Porlyusica nodded, "Of course. After that I never want to see you again."

Makarov smiled, "Of course."

Their room wasn't far, and the fact they weren't in the ICU was good. Lucy swayed on her feet. Between the endless memories that invaded her mind the night before, and the lack of food and water _now_ , she probably wouldn't be remaining upright for much longer.

How was she going to get home?

They came to the threshold of Gray and Natsu's room.

"Their bodies are still filtering out the anesthesia," Porlyusica explained, looking into the room, "and it's nighttime, so they won't be waking up anytime soon. But you're welcome to sit for a little while. I've got to kick you out in ten, but paperwork can take awhile, so…"

With the go ahead, Macao, Ferra and Romeo disappeared into the room, followed by Gajeel and Levy. Makarov gave Porlyusica a short nod before walking in with Erza and Jellal. Lucy went to follow, but was caught by the arm.

She looked up at Porlyusica.

"Your father is also out of surgery," she said, and Lucy's stomach flipped. She let out a long breath, relieved. Alone, it was easier to feel that way without the guilt.

It still ate at her though.

"Now, technically, the number for their room right now is three," Porlyusica continued. "But you can stay here with your father, and if you were to go back and forth between rooms…" she looked up and away, "we don't tend to see much."

Lucy beamed as widely as her exhausted muscles would allow.

"Thank you," she said softly, "thank you so much."

Porlyusica smiled, "You're welcome." She pointed just behind Lucy, and Lucy turned around to follow her line of sight to a lone door on the opposite side of the hall with a cop she didn't recognize standing by it. "He's just in there, when you're ready."

Lucy nodded.

"Gajeel explained to me what's going on," Porlyusica offered, and Lucy turned back to look at her, " and since there don't seem to be any records of his in our system, I've requested a psych consult. Depending on their evaluation, he may move up to the psych floor."

"I understand," Lucy said, voice gentle.

"Take care, dear," Porlyusica gave her shoulder a small squeeze. "I hope I never see you again."

Lucy couldn't help the corner of her mouth quirking up at that, "Same here."

With that, Porlyusica left and Lucy slipped into the room.

It was dimly lit and relatively silent, save the heart-monitors. No ventilators, which was a good sign. They both looked pale and though the moonlight could be to blame for that, all Lucy could hear ringing around her head was how much blood they'd lost.

Because of her…

There were hardly enough chairs—Makarov, Jellal and Gajeel were all standing—so Lucy shrunk into the corner of the room and said nothing, just listening to the beeping. Though the guilt still pooled heavy in her gut, with each beat of their hearts, the anxiety lessened.

It wouldn't go away until they woke up, she knew, but it was better than a flat line.

Nobody spoke, they just huddled in relief until Levy started falling asleep in her chair and Gajeel was picking her up. With her arms around his neck, she gave everyone a sleepy smile, and Gajeel nodded before carrying her out silently.

She needed her sleep. Now more than ever.

Lucy caught Makarov by the elbow on his way out the door.

"What time do you need me to come in to make a statement?" she asked, slurred. Her tongue was heavy in her mouth and her brain was fuzzy. She really needed some good sleep herself.

Makarov patted her hand. "Not necessary, Lucy. Jellal recorded you when you were talking earlier."

Lucy blinked. "I don't know whether to be relieved, or pissed off."

Makarov just snickered and left.

With just her left in the room, she felt really…empty.

Should she really be here?

She wasn't ready to see her father though…

Maybe she could go back to the waiting room unti—

"Lucy?"

Her head snapped up to Macao at the whisper-yell of her name. She blinked at him as he gestured to the chair next to Gray's bed.

"You look exhausted. Sleep."

The care in his eyes almost had her in tears.

She hadn't been looked at like that in what felt like a really long time.

She pulled the chair as close as she could to Gray's bedside and nearly collapsed into the seat. There was more space at his feet for her to lie down, but she could comfortably reach the hand not currently stuck with an IV.

If Natsu's main problem was that he was bleeding internally, it could've been any number of things that tugged his stitches. Hell, him jumping down from that bridge at the playground could've started it, so slow he wouldn't've noticed. She couldn't even begin to imagine what Acno had done to him in the meantime. His gunshots she'd had no control over.

But Gray's…

Gray's were entirely her fault, and even though she knew either way he would've done anything to save his partner, and would've probably gotten hurt, that didn't change the fact that this time…it was her fault.

He was in this hospital bed because of _her_.

"I'm so sorry, Gray," she whispered into the bed sheets.

Tears slipped down the bridge of her nose before she buried it in the rough fabric.

"I'm so, so sorry."

…

She swore she'd only closed her eyes for a second, but when she opened them again, light was streaming in through the blinds and she felt like death.

She'd felt like death all weekend though.

Her neck had a kink in it that would take some serious work to get rid of, and she was sore all over. Her thighs were killing her and her wrist was aching. Maybe she should've accepted the painkillers they'd offered her the night before.

Would they let her cash in on them now?

"…will need to be transferred…no doubt…didn't know…"

A gentle, raspy voice echoed in from the hall.

She knew that voice.

Natsu's parents and brother were slouched against each other at the foot of his bed, still asleep, so she quietly pushed herself back from Gray's to sneak outside.

A tall, purple-haired man was talking to Porlyusica. Even with his back to her, she'd know him anywhere.

"Erik?" her voice cracked, raspy with sleep, and she rubbed her eyes.

He spun around on his heel, wide-eyed at the sight of Lucy. He glanced back quickly to say a few last words before coming over to her, arms open.

Lucy stepped into them, the slight squeeze comforting before he pulled away and held her at arms length.

"How you holding up?" he asked.

Lucy sighed. "Not the best. Rough weekend."

"So I've heard. Met your soulmate, huh?" He raised an eyebrow. There was no smirk. Just genuine interest and concern.

"Yeah," Lucy rubbed her face and looked down at the floor, "I've relived months, Erik. _Months_. There's just no way it's only been three days even though I know it has."

He smiled at her sympathetically. "Not easy being on that side of it."

"No," she agreed, "it's not." She glanced back at him. "What're you doing here, anyway?" She had an inkling, but confirmation would be nice.

"Psych eval for your dad," Erik looked behind him in the direction of her father's room. There was a new cop there this time, again someone she didn't recognize. Must be a new rookie pair. "He told me about you and Natsu. I didn't invade your privacy or anything."

Ah. That's how he knew.

"I know you wouldn't do that unless absolutely necessary," Lucy crossed her arms over her chest, "you don't need to worry about saying you didn't."

"Yeah, well," Erik crossed his arms too, "I'm still going to so you know for sure."

Anxiety curled in her chest.

"So he's awake?"

Erik looked back to her, turning away from her father's room. "Yeah. He's a little groggy, but that works in my favor for honesty and lucidity."

Lucy nodded. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, afraid to ask but knowing it was necessary. If he was diagnosed, she'd be his proxy. It was necessary as much as she wished it never had to happen in the first place. "So…"

Erik sighed.

"You probably already figured it out, so you know there's no treatment for it."

Her stomach dropped at that.

She knew.

Of course she knew.

That didn't stop her from hoping that that wasn't the case.

"There's no way it could be chemical?"

Erik shook his head. "This change takes place at the spiritual level, something we cannot influence with any sort of drug or lifestyle change. It's unpredictable. Dangerous."

Lucy nodded and bit her lip.

"It wasn't your dad who did all this you know," Erik bent down a little to meet her gaze, "it was Acnologia."

Lucy nodded again. "I know that."

"I know you know that. I'm just making sure you hear it again from someone who isn't you." Erik straightened back up and took a deep breath. "There's still so much we don't know about this situation, Lucy. It's so rare it's hard to study."

"I've only read case studies," Lucy mused, biting the inside of her bottom lip.

What if it happened to her?

She'd already felt Elie in the back of her mind—as Acno had put it yesterday—once in awhile, anger, actions. What if she took over? What if—

"Hey," Erik interrupted her thoughts. "Stop that."

Lucy blinked at him.

"It's not genetic," he said gently, "and he was an extremely vengeful person in the past. Just because this has happened to your father, doesn't mean it will happen to you."

"She's back there though…" Lucy whispered.

"But you're dealing with it and getting closure, right?" he asked.

Lucy nodded. The emotions she felt right now…they were definitely hers. Nothing was driving her in any which way, and the anger she felt toward Acno was replaced by relief for knowing he had been caught. If what she'd heard last night was anything to go by, Haru had burned him alive.

That knowledge had seemed to silence Elie.

"She's at peace, no longer vengeful," Lucy voiced, and Erik smiled.

"Good." He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Though at heart, something tells me she was never inherently evil, so I don't think you'd have anything to worry about anyway. Acnologia on the other hand…" Erik trailed off.

"My father never stood a chance, did he?" she asked.

Erik shook his head. "Not likely, no. As soon as he started remembering past your mother, there was no way for him to deal with all the anger. Especially when he'd get to the point of his death and the vengeance that drove him."

She knew there was most likely no answer, but she had to ask anyway.

"Is he…do you think…" she couldn't figure out how to word it. "Will he ever be able to get control over it?"

Erik's brow furrowed. "I'm not sure, Lucy." He looked her dead on. "But I've made the request for him to be transferred to a psych facility instead of prison so I can work with him and study him. Since you're family, you can't, and I'm the next best thing."

Lucy just stared at him.

"I'd've asked you if that was alright first, but you were sleeping and I figured that that'd be the best case scenario since you tend to—oof!"

She half ran into Erik, wrapping her arms around his neck. Somewhere in the back of her mind, something was telling her this was really unprofessional no matter how close they all were at the office, but at this point she didn't care. She hadn't seen her father in years and if he was anywhere in there and she had a chance at a relationship with him…she wanted that choice.

"Thank you, Erik," she choked and swallowed, refusing to cry again. "Thank you so much."

Erik chuckled and hugged her back. "Anytime, Lucy."

She pulled back.

"Is it him in there? Does he even want to see me?" She didn't know how much he remembered.

Erik just smiled. "He's been asking for you, but only if you want to see him."

Lucy nodded and breathed deep before letting it out as slow as possible. The answer to all her questions was on the other side of that door…

"What if—"

"Don't question yourself, Lucy," Erik looked at her knowingly. "Trust me on that."

Lucy nodded and started in the direction of her father's room, Erik close behind her.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" he asked.

Lucy paused by the closed door and mulled it over for a minute. She was anxious, sure. She'd been putting off thinking about her father for as long as possible, something she was guilty of. It'd be nice to have someone familiar in there with her.

She shook her head. "I need to do this alone."

Erik nodded. "I'll be just out here doing some paperwork. If you need me, just holler."

"I'll be watching from here in case he lapses," the new cop told her. His bright blonde hair was a stark contrast to the previous cop's black hair.

Lucy smiled and nodded to him before knocking.

"Come in."

Back to normal. Back to the tone she remembered.

A shiver ran down her spine as she pressed down on the handle quickly before she could lose her nerve.

He had restraints around his wrists and ankles, better for him than cuffs. Though she knew it was protocol, he'd be too weak to go anywhere anytime soon and seemed a little unnecessary.

Maybe that was her being biased.

Grey scruff lined his cheeks and jaw, his hair was disheveled, eyes dark. He was pale as well and winced as he moved to turn in her direction.

More than anything, he looked completely and utterly exhausted.

"Lucy," his voice broke and eyes glazed over. He unconsciously reached toward her only to have his wrists held back.

"Daddy."

She dashed across the room to hug him, careful of any injuries. He gripped at the fabric of her shirt to try and keep her as close as the velcro would allow him to. "I'm so glad you're okay," she said, breathless, pulling away. "You are, aren't you?"

Jude sighed. "As okay as I can be."

Lucy swallowed. "Are you in pain?"

He laughed at that, "Of course I'm in pain, that's not what I'm talking about." He paused and frowned. "I'm talking about nearly having killed my daughter and her soulmate not even a day ago."

"It wasn't you, dad," she said, but her words did nothing for the blank expression on his face.

"I still had to watch it and they were still my hands that did it," he looked down at his bound wrists, "I was just barely able to stop him in time before getting shot." He looked up at her, ready to say something, but emotion warped his features that she just couldn't place.

He just stared.

"What?" she asked.

"You just…" his eyes darted all over her face, glazing over, "…god…you look so much like your mother."

Her eyes pricked at that.

"Lucy…" he said softly, "…you know…I could never…I would never think that about your mother. She was everything to me…I couldn't…" he broke off.

"I know dad," Lucy brought up a hand to brush a tear from his cheek. "I know."

"You two were the best things that ever happened to me," he said firmly. "I couldn't let my inability to control him put you two in danger…"

Lucy pulled up a chair to his bedside and sat. "Is that…is that why you disappeared?"

He nodded. "There's no treatment for this, and despite what our therapist was trying to do, I could feel him there, waiting. It was only a matter of time before the barrier snapped, and you two couldn't be around when that happened."

Lucy took a deep breath. "Acno…he said…something about me being born having something to do with it?"

Jude immediately shook his head, "In no way is that your faul—"

"Dad," she interrupted. "Please just…tell me what happened?"

Jude looked at her, pained. "I don't want you to blame yourself, Lucy. This wasn't your fault. Not in the slightest. I wasn't able to—"

"If it wasn't my fault, it wasn't yours either since all you wanted to do was protect us," she said gently, taking her father's hand and giving it a squeeze. "It's just…" she let out a hard laugh.

"Fate?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah," she scoffed. "Fate. Fate's a bitch, huh?"

"Lucy," Jude's eyes narrowed, "language."

She blinked at that and laughed.

"What's so funny?" he quirked a brow and Lucy could only smile.

"I haven't been parented in so long," she leaned back in her chair, "and after everything it's just so…mundane."

Jude chuckled, "Yeah, I guess you're right."

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"Dad…what happened?"

The look of devastation on his face had her heart aching. She could see his brain reeling, trying to find out where to start.

He finally looked at her.

"Promise me you won't blame yourself for this," he told her. "Because this is in no way your fault."

Her stomach churned but she nodded.

Jude glanced away out the window through the open blinds.

"Your mother and I were able to work through what happened," he started. "It took us a few years, but our counsellor was amazing and soon the memories became less and less frequent. I didn't know much about what had happened after I'd killed her and I didn't really need to know. We'd moved past it and everything was alright."

He looked so exhausted.

"When you were born, your mother remembered you," he looked back to her, "because she'd been your mother and she was relieved to see you again. Since I'd never met you when I was Acno, I didn't, but she did.

"And when she saw your birthmark…the guilt she and I both felt," he let out a low breath. "It was consuming. It ate at her. She'd gotten killed and when she was gone you'd gotten killed, and it was my fault that had happened in the first place."

His hands clenched as best they could, pulling against the restraints.

"It haunted her, everyday, and got to the point she had to find out what had happened to you. How you'd died. But it wasn't easy since you disappeared at eighteen." He relaxed. "We ended up backtracking to the people who'd hired your mother as a CI and followed their investigation to the report written of you being killed by an undercover agent while looking for me.

"And Layla," he shook his head, "she blamed herself. I blamed myself, and the more we researched, the more I remembered. And the more I remembered…the angrier Acno got and the more he would influence me."

Jude breathed in deep. "Back when it first started, your mom could usually snap me out of it. We went to our therapist more often, and I did anything and everything to try and work through the memories and emotions…but I would get lost sometimes.

"There came a point though, when your mother couldn't do it anymore. When it didn't work. I could feel him. He wasn't just angry, he was murderous, and I couldn't have anything happen to the two of you.

"So despite the fact your mother didn't want to leave and truly believed she could help…I couldn't chance it. I couldn't risk it. Especially when you were involved. So we agreed on her staying away." Jude let his head fall back against the pillow. His eyes dulled.

"He'd take over though, once in awhile, and because fate pulls soulmates back, he played on that. Your mother and I would always be yanked back together one way or another, and that put you both in danger." He swallowed as tears filled his eyes.

"Your mother would've done anything to keep you safe, Lucy," he whispered, "anything to keep what had happened in your past life from happening again. She'd mentioned it to me once before when you were younger…in passing, and I'd shot it down right away."

It clicked.

Lucy could barely find the words. Her whole body thrummed. Numb. Her voice echoed but sounded so distant she wasn't even sure she was actually speaking. "She killed herself so that tie wouldn't let Acno find her."

It was her fault.

"This was _not_ your fault, Lucy," Jude said, firmly. "It was your mother's choice, and I know her. If she'd found out that Acno was on to where you are now, where you'd built roots, and had a career, she wouldn't have been able to move the both of you, and those you love and care for here would've been in danger as well.

"He does a lot of hacking into soul-files. Your mother knew that. So if she'd gotten wind of a security breach, she would've known he was close to finding you two."

Lucy's stomach plummeted.

 _He'd_ been the one to hack into the office.

She'd told her mother about it.

And the day after, she'd been found, dead.

Lucy's ears rang, pounding at her head.

Her fault. Her fault. It was her fault. If she hadn't told her mother about that breach, she'd still be alive. She was around cops all the time. She'd've been safe, and since her mother knew her mother could be on the lookout or—

No. Acno was deadly. If he'd found them, they'd never've stood a chance. He didn't care about preserving his life in this one, he just cared about his twisted version of justice.

Her mother…

"Why didn't she tell the cops?" she asked. "If she was scared to the point of…"

Jude's face softened. "I don't know, Lucy. I really don't know. When she left, we'd both thought the two of you not being around would help me keep control, so it could be possible she didn't know until last week that I'd lost to him. And even then, going to them? They wouldn't be able to do anything without something happening first, or without possibly alerting him either."

Lucy shook her head.

"I don't know the details of your mother's reasoning, and I doubt that anyone would," he continued. "But what I do know is your mother was the most intelligent, resourceful, savvy person I've ever known. She wouldn't have done this if she thought there was any other way to keep you safe."

It hardly seemed possible for Jude's expression to fall any further. "But it backfired. It made headlines and make it easier for him to find you. Your mother wasn't expecting her medical report to have been leaked to the press, mentioning her birthmark. It was always hidden in her hair, and even then, that breach of confidentiality…" he trailed off.

Tears fell and she covered her face.

"This was an impossible set of circumstances. You didn't miss anything. You couldn't have known. Her death is not your fault."

A sob escaped her lips as she fell forward, leaning on her father's bed. "But it was because of _me_."

"That doesn't make you responsible, baby girl," she felt his fingers weave into her hair and nails scrape lightly against her scalp.

"I'm sorry," she buried her face into the sheets as her body heaved and overflowed. She hated it. How she couldn't stop crying. How all she seemed to be doing lately was hating herself when everyone said she had no reason to. They said it wasn't her fault but it sure as hell felt like it.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Jude whispered.

She shook her head, trying to get words out but unable to speak through her tears. They soaked into the blankets, coated her cheeks, she could barely breathe and her head swam.

Jude's fingers just continued what they were doing.

"I feel like I do," she finally managed.

The adoration in her father's voice felt undeserved. "Then I speak for me _and_ your mother when I say you are completely forgiven."

…

She fell asleep on her father's bed, and woke up in a cot next to him, hours later, when it was dark. Her sleep schedule was so fucked up, how the hell had she slept the whole day away for it to be nighttime again.

"Fuck," she mumbled under her breath and pushed herself up into a sitting position. "Didn't mean to sleep that long."

She looked to her father, who was also sleeping. He was allowed though, having gotten shot and drugged up and all.

She blinked down at the lumpy mattress she was on.

How'd she gotten into a cot?

Her stomach growled.

Even if it was late, the cafeteria had to have granola bars or something, didn't they?

They'd better.

Lucy used her good wrist to push herself up to a seated position before dropping to the ground and sneaking out the door. She swallowed at the dryness in her mouth and grimaced at the feel of plaque on her teeth.

Gross.

She pulled at the sleeve of her sweater to rub at one of her canines. It was already dirty and needed to be cleaned, and at this point she couldn't give a shit.

"…fucking idiot, y'know that?"

She froze at the sound of Gray's voice drifting out the cracked door.

"Yeah, I know. So you've said. You don't need to say it again." Natsu's voice was raspy and relief flooded through her.

They were _awake_.

Her legs faltered and she had to brace herself against the wall with her free hand.

"Apparently I do," Gray sounded irritated, "because you keep doing stupid shit. Like getting yourself shot. Or pulling your fucking stitches until you're bleeding out and nobody knows, like…seriously, Natsu, what the fucking hell?" His voice sounded hoarse.

"You got shot too. _Seriously._ Where the fuck were your vests, huh? Bringing Lucy out there without one. Are you stupid?" Lucy's stomach flipped at the sound of her name.

Gray shut up at that.

"That shit's protocol one-oh-one, Gray. Seriously."

"Oh yeah? Then where was yours?"

Natsu shut up at that.

Lucy pressed a fist to her mouth to suppress a laugh.

"In my defense my brain has been remembering way too much shit over the past couple days, alright? It's been muddled and I could barely keep _this_ shit straight." She could hear the pout in Natsu's voice.

"Yeah, well," Gray sighed, "Lucy and I weren't really thinking either. She's a civilian so you can't really blame her for not thinking of it, we just wanted to get to you first."

"She still should've stayed behind. That was reckless."

"Funny coming from you."

"Shut up, Gray." But Natsu's tone was playful.

"She kept it to herself so we had no choice but to let her," Gray said. He was exhausted. She could tell. Even if he hadn't been through what he'd been through, she could tell. "Sly little thing."

"Yeah," Natsu was breathless, "she is."

There was a bit of a silence.

"I understand why you didn't tell Lucy what had happened," Natsu started, "she definitely wouldn't have believed you. But why didn't you tell _me_?"

Lucy moved to lean against the wall. Gray was quiet.

He finally breathed out. "You could still hold onto the hope that you weren't an Inflictor. Even with the scars, and even though it didn't look like you'd outright murdered her, I couldn't be sure enough to put you at ease at the time. There was still a possibility in your mind that you weren't and—" Lucy heard sheets shuffle and Gray take a breath.

Definitely rubbing his face right about now. Getting him to talk like this was like pulling teeth. He hated feeling vulnerable just about as much as Lucy did. Especially to those who never really saw him like this.

"I don't have a good reason," he relented. "Nothing will make up for it, I know. Once I didn't tell you right away, I was already fucked. I was thinking of the both of you and…" Gray's voice cracked, and Lucy's heart ached. "I didn't know what to do. You weren't a murderer, and I was scared of what Lucy would think of me and…Natsu, I'm sorry."

"Careful, Gray," Natsu teased, "I might start to think you care about me."

"Shut up, pyro. You're my partner _and_ my friend. You're like my brother. Of course I do."

There was another silence where Gray cleared his throat.

"So, did you remember where the scars came from?" he asked.

Natsu let out a short laugh at that, "Yeah. Finally. 'bout damn time. Neck's from Acno's knife when I was a kid, the cheek is from a bullet graze from him the night I killed him."

"How was he close enough to touch you for that?"

"About a year after I k—after Elie," Natsu stuttered over his words, "I found him. I'd been putting out feelers, subtle things about her, hoping he would take the bait.

"One day he did, and I managed to track him here actually. More on the outskirts of town, but still here. Which was stupidly ironic because the two of us had been here before."

"Fate's a fucking bitch," Gray grumbled.

"Yeah. Really," Natsu agreed, voice thick. "I thought I had the drop on him, but he got behind me with a gun. I managed to get it away from my face as he fired the shot, but it grazed me.

"He managed to shoot me in the shoulder before I took his gun from him and got him in the car. Used the last of Elie's Devil's Breath. Made him drive to the same place he made me drive last night," his voice was hollowed, a little empty. "When I finally got him there, I tied him up, waited until he sobered up and shot him. Watched as he bled out. Made sure he knew exactly why this was happening. For my mother. For Elie."

Silence.

"I was so mad, Gray," Natsu said, wistfully. "I wanted to make him pay for everything he'd done to the people I loved. To the kids he'd killed. I may not have murdered Elie…but I did, him. In cold blood. And I didn't feel guilty. Not in the slightest. That's the only thing I feel bad about.

"I burned the mausoleum down after I thought he was dead, then drove. Passed out behind the wheel of the car, and the last thing I remember was the inside of an ambulance." Natsu paused then mumbled, "Shoulder must've been worse than I thought. Prolly hit an artery."

"If you were brought to a hospital though, why couldn't we find you in the records when you were brought in?" Gray asked. There was a slight note of irritation to his voice.

"I'd burned off my fingerprints and hacked into my dental records to delete them at some point. You wouldn't have been able to find me," he said.

More silence.

"I'm fucking pissed at you."

"I know," Natsu sighed.

"I could have fucking helped you—"

"I know."

"—but instead you go get yourself killed—"

"I fucking know, Gray, okay?! But aside from wanting that revenge for myself I didn't want you getting killed too!"

Gray was definitely blinking right now, with the blankest look on his face.

Was blankest a word?

It was now.

"You're not the only one who gives a shit, asshole."

"Awwwww," Gray lured, "Natsuuuu."

"Shut up."

Gray laughed.

Natsu's voice finally sounded. "I'm sorry."

Gray let out a gush of air. "Yeah, me too."

Lucy smiled softly to herself before slipping away from the door and in the direction of the cafeteria. She shouldn't've been listening, sure, but she needed to know they were both okay. She'd've gone in but…she didn't know if she was ready to face Natsu yet.

Plus she was still hungry dammit.

The little bit of money she'd had stashed away in her pocket from the day before, was just enough to get her a protein bar. Luckily enough water from a cup was free. Better than getting it from the fountain.

The halls were blissfully deserted. Technically she wasn't really supposed to be around right now, but if she was in a cot they'd probably made an exception. Nobody was throwing her out either, which was a bonus. Then again, she was here so often for work people recognized her. The lady behind the cafeteria counter gave her free muffins once in awhile.

The one she'd gotten this time was a little stale, but she wasn't complaining.

She was almost back to her room when she heard a faint voice come from Gray and Natsu's room. "Lucy."

Her stomach sank and she froze. Maybe she could just sneak away?

"I know your footsteps in those clunky boots. You wear them everywhere. Get in here."

She silently opened the door to a very tired looking Gray, peering at her through slitted eyes.

A very tired, very much alive Gray.

She swallowed her relief in favor of normalcy.

"That's really creepy, y'know." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Knowing my footsteps? Stalker," she teased.

Gray just smiled, "Not my fault those boots are so memorable."

Lucy glared, "They're hiking boots. They're comfortable. My feet don't hurt when I wear them."

"They're awful."

"Funny coming from you," she raised an eyebrow. "You've got a terrible sense of fashion."

"Liar."

Yeah, but he didn't need to know that.

Gray tilted his head in the direction of the chair next to him, and Lucy eyed Natsu wearily as she shuffled over to sit down. The chairs next to Natsu were empty.

"He's sleeping," Gray told her after noticing where she was looking. "Guy can pass out at the drop of a hat, he won't be up anytime soon. Parents and Romeo went home for the night. They'd been there all day and needed to shower."

Lucy let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Good."

Gray's brow furrowed, "He make you that nervous?"

Lucy went to shake her head but stopped, moving it side to side instead. "More like I just don't feel like I'm ready to talk to him yet," she confessed. "I just…"

"It's been a rough few days, Lucy," Gray said. "Anyone would understand the need to just, take some time alone to process."

"Yeah, but I really need to apologize and I'm just…" she trailed off. She didn't really know how she was feeling. She was all over the place. Relieved he was alive. Overwhelming emotion at him being in front of her again. Happiness that was mainly Elie's, but also a bit of hers. Differentiating wasn't easy.

Gray took the hand of hers not wrapped in a splint and gave it a squeeze. "I get it. It's okay."

Lucy stared down at their linked fingers.

"Gray, I'm so sorry," she breathed, keeping her gaze very firmly downward. "It's my fault you're here and—"

"Lucy."

"—if I'd just gone alone, none of this would've happened, and—"

"Lucy!" he whisper yelled.

She stopped talking.

"Look at me."

She shook her head.

"Luce, look at me," he said softly.

She forced her eyes upward.

"I'm here," Gray tilted his head to one side. "I'm okay. It's not your fault."

It felt like all she was doing was apologizing today.

She was sick of it.

"We're all okay," his head fell back against his pillow, and Lucy followed suit against his legs. Even with how much they'd all been sleeping, they were still exhausted. She could barely keep her eyes open.

Again, it seemed like she'd blinked and hours had gone by. Any traces of sunlight that might have been there before disappeared in favor of the moon. A very full moon. In the dark, it bathed the room in silver.

And though Lucy still felt a little anxious, the atmosphere settled her nerves.

She should leave though. Get back to her father.

She stood as silently as she could from her chair and made for the door. Fuck she'd really need a good bath or something, her muscles were killing her. Maybe she could bug the staff to let her take a shower or something…she felt gross as all hell.

"You'd make a terrible ninja."

Lucy's stomach plummeted as she froze and cursed her body. The amount of times she'd frozen in the past two days was really starting to annoy her. She shouldn't be scared. She _wasn't_ scared.

She just…wasn't ready.

She'd only _just_ managed to get a hold on her guilt when it came to everything that _wasn't_ making her soulmate feel like absolute shit for imposing her ridiculous assumptions on him. She wasn't ready to have this conversation.

"Don't make me get out of this bed to come stop you," his voice was rough, "because I'll do it. You know I will. And I don't think Porlyusica feels like dealing with more pulled stitches. Do you?"

Lucy swallowed and turned around.

He was sitting up slightly, pillows propped behind his back and head. Less pale than the last time she'd seen him, but still not the same tan he'd been the day before. He was smiling though, animate now.

She bit her lip at the pang in her chest.

If he'd died…the last thing he'd've remembered of her would be that fight. If she hadn't been able to find him, if Acno hadn't been doing his best to lead her to where they were…

His voice was gentle.

"Lucy, c'mere."

She listened.

She made her way for the chair, but Natsu slowly drew up one of his legs to make space for her at the foot of the bed. She opened her mouth to protest, but he just jutted his chin out in response to the empty spot.

She sat, pulled one of her feet under her and when the rubber of the sole dug into her thigh painfully, she opted to just kick off her boots. She was sticking around the hospital anyway, she could get away with sock feet.

She turned to Natsu with crossed legs.

Her voice was barely audible. "Natsu…I—"

"Don't."

She blinked at him. "But—"

"Stop," he said gently, eyes soft. "You don't need to apologize anymore."

She shook her head. "If there's anyone I need to be sorry to—"

"Lucy." It was short, crisp, and made her shut her mouth. She looked away to the bedsheets. "You've been apologizing all damn day, and all last night. You don't need to be sorry anymore."

Lucy's eyes flashed up to him. "You haven't been around, so how would you know?" she challenged, failing to hide a smirk.

"Because I know you," he told her, "you've always apologized for things that aren't your fault and taken everything upon yourself. It's because you love and care so much. That's one thing I know hasn't changed, even in a new life."

She'd be bothered about him saying that if it wasn't entirely true.

Because he was right.

She was the same person. She and Elie were the same, the only differences being the outside circumstances that shaped who she'd become in either life. At her core…she was the same.

And so was Natsu.

"I've been cruel," she whispered, fingers digging into her shins, "and ignorant, and unfair, and—"

"And it's okay," he told her.

She shook her head. "No. No it's not. Nothing about what I've done is okay."

"Yes, it is—"

"Who are you to tell me it's okay?!" she snapped, voice hushed but harsh. "Who are you to forgive me for all the shit I've put you through? For making you kill me? For making you feel like absolute shit for days over something that you never even did? Who are you to tell me that all of the things I've done wrong, are in fact _okay_? _Huh?_ "

"Your soulmate," he stated simply.

Lucy's voice vanished.

"I'm your soulmate," he repeated. "The person that would've been hurt most by all of these things. The person who killed you when you asked. The person who fell in love with you, for you just being who you are. The person who was bonded to you because on some level, we were meant to be in each other's lives again. Your soulmate. The person who is supposed to understand you completely.

"And I do," Natsu reached out for her hand to pull her fingers from where they were pressing crescents into her leg. "I get it. You don't need to be sorry anymore. I'm telling you it's okay because I understand you."

He weaved his fingers through hers and she clutched at him like a lifeline, still careful of the IV.

"I _understand_ you, Lucy," he rasped. "You don't need to explain yourself to me."

Why was everyone so nice to her? After everything that had happened, and everything she'd done that had played a part in where everyone around her was now…how could they? How could everyone still be so nice to her?

"Because we care about you," Natsu said.

Oh. She'd said that aloud.

"You barely even know me," Lucy muttered.

"I know the parts that matter." He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. "Wouldn't you say the same about me?" he asked.

She looked up from their hands to him, and looked at him. _Really_ looked at him.

Those dark eyes.

Those dark eyes that bear the soul of someone fiercely loyal and protective of those he loves. Of someone who would do anything and everything for anyone who needed him. Of someone who would take on someone else's pain—even if he's undeserving of such treatment—so that person can feel better. Of someone who puts so much value in family, he would drop everything to help them.

Of someone who was there. Genuine. Loving.

Haru. Natsu.

Him.

She knew him.

Even if she didn't know everything about how he'd grown up, where he'd gone to school, where he was born, what academy he attended to get into his current precinct, what side of the bed he slept on, what he read or watched on tv…even if she knew nothing about his current habits or life…

She knew his soul, and he knew hers.

She knew his core.

And he'd found her again.

Tears pricked her eyes as she let go. The pain of having lost him. Of having to die to be free. Of leaving him behind. Getting killed. Assumptions she made. Remembering. The remembering.

She surged forward, earning a soft grunt as she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and clung to him. She buried her forehead in the crook of his neck and did her best not to dig her fingers into his skin as the muscle of her arms tensed and chest heaved against his.

His one free arm came up to wrap tightly around her waist, gripping at her sides, hard. It was borderline painful, but she didn't much care at this point.

He was back. He was here.

She wasn't alone anymore.

She'd felt that all her life. Even with her mother—as much as she loved her—she knew there was something her mother wasn't telling her and it ate at a part of their relationship they couldn't seem to get back.

But the birthmark had left her feeling so, so alone. She'd grown up thinking there was only one way to how soul-bonded pairs worked. Her teachers hadn't gone any further into some of the more obscure cases, and in her field of work, it was the most common scenario. Marked and Inflictor. Murderer and Victim.

But it wasn't that black and white.

But because she'd thought of it that way, she'd felt so isolated. Nobody would talk about it with her, and she didn't want to be seen as weak. She stayed on her own. Stayed alone, despite wishing to not be.

But he'd found her again. Even when she hadn't believed…he'd found her again.

Well…she'd found him, technically, but that was beside the point.

He muttered into her hair, little strings of nonsense as her emotions got the better of her, and tightened his arm around her. "I'm here. It's okay. I've got you. You're alright. It's okay."

When her breathing returned to normal and she managed to pull away, he brought his hand up to brush the stains from her cheek and she leaned into his palm.

"So," he ran his fingers through her hair to comb it out of her face, and she fixed her focus on him. "Now that your father has shot me twice—" her eyes narrowed slightly at the distinction of it being her father instead of Acnologia, but she let it slide, "and killed me once, I might add—will you _please_ go out to dinner with me?"

Lucy snorted at that, and then—laughing through her tears—took his face in her hands, tenderly traced her thumb along the scar there, and kissed him.

.

.

.

A loud crash jerked her awake and in one swift movement, Lucy ripped her comforter back, stumbled to her feet, dashed down the hall to the living room and was greeted by the sight of a figure covered in a fallen tower of boxes.

He grunted and groaned, trying to sit up, and Lucy slid to her knees next to him.

"Natsu," she tried to stop him from moving his arms. "Natsu, stop!"

He let out an annoyed sound as she freed him and helped him to sit up. He winced at the action and barely looked at her before fixing his gaze away from her. "Stupid foot."

"Natsu," she sighed, exasperated, "what were you trying to do?"

He crossed his arms.

"Natsu."

"I shouldn't be calling you anytime I need to get up and go somewhere, Lucy," he growled. "It's fucking pathetic."

She reached to brush a wayward lock of hair from his eyes, but he leaned away from her. A sheen of sweat coated his forehead and his breathing was laboured.

She huffed. "Your parents would've been worse, y'know."

"They wouldn't have been _around_ to be worse," he argued.

"That's the point, idiot," she smiled fondly. "You need someone around to help and make sure you don't tear your damn stitches again." She grabbed a cushion from the couch and pulled Natsu forward gently to wedge it behind his back and the wall.

"Just needed some air," he sighed, looking toward the window. The boxes he'd knocked over had been directly in front of it. "I was just trying to get it open, not knock them over."

This time when she reached for him, he didn't pull away. His hair was softer than she would've thought after having been dyed.

"It's not pathetic to need help when you're healing, y'know," she said, shuffling around to sit beside him. "We want you to get better, Natsu."

"Yeah, I know," he let his head fall back. "I'm just not used to this. It's never been this bad before."

"I know the feeling," she said softly.

He let his head loll against the wall to look down at her and raise an eyebrow.

She twiddled with her thumbs a bit. "I have a hard time accepting help too. You would be one of the people who knows that the most," her expression hardened as she stared him head on, "so you should also be one to practice what you preach."

Natsu chuckled. "Yeah. Fine. Jeeze."

Lucy smiled to herself and stretched her legs out, tapping Natsu's uninjured foot lightly with her own. "Want some water?"

"No!"

She met his frantic gaze as his breathing picked up pace. He swallowed and looked away from her quickly. His hands balled into fists as he crossed his arms.

"No," he said, softer this time. "No water."

The way his nose scrunched up and he coughed gave it away.

"Memory?" she asked.

Natsu covered his face with one hand. "I didn't know seeing Juvia today would do this. I had the memories already."

"Nightmare, then," Lucy whispered.

"And the look on her face…" he trailed off.

"You couldn't control it, Natsu," Lucy rest a hand on his thigh and gave it a squeeze.

"She's the sweetest person ever," he breathed.

"It's okay to have been scared. You can't control your body's reaction."

He tapped the center of his forehead with his fingers and squeezed his eyes shut. "All I could see was Reina. All I could _feel_ was—" his voice broke.

"She was right in front of you this time," Lucy pulled his hand from his face and weaved her fingers through his, "it's natural for you to react."

"She looked so _guilty,_ " he said softly, voice barely audible.

"And she will be, because she cares. And she understands. It's _okay_ , Natsu." She brushed away a tear that rolled down his cheek and when his breathing staggered, rested her hand on his chest. "Move my hand," she told him. "Breathe for me."

He did. Slow, deep breaths, until they evened out.

"I'm so sorry, Natsu," she said, finally.

He glanced her way and though she wanted to hide her face, she didn't.

"For what?" he asked.

"Everything."

"Lucy—"

She cut him off.

"No," her gaze narrowed, "you don't get to cut me off this time. Not for this. Not after everything I did."

He kept his mouth shut.

"Natsu, I—" she swallowed, hard, "I grew up only seeing what was in front of me. What the textbooks told me. What my job showed me. I'm supposed to _help_ people, and I didn't even consider the possibility of this whole," she gestured between the two of them, " _situation_ , being anything but you being a murderer. Of _any_ inflictor being anything but a murderer."

"You didn't know any better—"

"It's still not an excuse." She gathered her knees to her chest. "I refused to listen. I was so set in what I thought, two of my best friends couldn't tell me they were an inflictors, either to protect their soulmate, or themselves from what I would think. Because they were so sure of how I would react."

"You wouldn't've—"

"And they were right to."

Natsu just stared at her and she nodded.

"They were right to, Natsu, because if I hadn't met you before Gray told me, if that memory hadn't surfaces first and affected me the way it did…I don't know what I would have thought or how it would've made me feel," she looked away. "And even if later I changed my way of thinking, that doesn't change the damage done."

She took a deep breath and turned back.

"I can't change what I did and how I treated you," she continued, "because I can't go back. But I can honestly tell you, Natsu, I'm so, so sorry. I should've done so many things different. It was cruel. It was wrong. It was completely unfair and you didn't deserve anything I made you feel."

She closed her eyes, tight.

"I hope one day you can forgive me," she croaked.

A warm palm cupped her cheek and she leaned into it selfishly.

"Okay," he said softly.

She gripped his hand with both of hers briefly before letting it go and leaning against the wall, letting out a gush of air. She'd do everything she could to make up for it.

Her apartment was quiet, so when he breathed deep, she looked back to him.

"There was something I wanted to ask you, if that's okay," he said, eyes forward.

She cocked her head to one side. "Of course. Why wouldn't it be okay?"

He bit his lip and pulled a knee up to his chest. "Because it might make you uncomfortable."

Her brow furrowed, "What would make me—"

"That kiss."

She flushed heavily and looked away. "I, uh…Natsu…I was just—"

He laughed, "Relax. It has to do with it, but not about it directly."

Her whole body was hot. Dammit. _She_ wasn't the one who got flustered over things like this. That was supposed to be _him_. Asshole.

"What do you want this to be?" he asked, and she had to look over to see his gesturing between them.

"Us?"

"Yeah," he slung his arm over his bent knee. "Soul-bonds aren't always romantic, as you know. Gajeel and Levy are, Gray and Juvia are not. There are two bonded rookies Gray and I are training who are brothers."

Lucy crossed her arms and legs.

What did she want this to be?

Him asking that question…going out of his way to even consider the other possibilities, that she might not want him the same way in this life she had in her past life…

She smiled, breathless, "You're amazing, you know that?"

He blinked at her. "What?"

"For asking," she looked up at him, "for considering that things may be different, and respecting the fact I may feel differently. For taking into account my side."

He cocked his head to one side, "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

She shook her head, "Not many people do."

Natsu frowned. "Lucy, whether or not it totally makes sense, I care about you. I'd like the chance to be around in your life. That's what I'd like. But I can't force that on you, so I'm asking what it is you want."

Lucy pulled her knees up and rested her arms on top. "I don't know," she answered, honestly. "There's so much going on right now, so many memories, and I don't really know who you are in this life and Elie's emotions are confusing as all hell." She sighed and leaned her forehead in an open palm. Her hands were cold and the temperature drop was soothing to her face.

Natsu said nothing.

She took a breath.

"I do know that I'd like to find out though," she said finally. "I don't know how I feel about you, but I do know I want to find out, so if it's alright with you…" she swallowed and turned to him, "…we could just…spend some time together? Maybe even work a few cases?"

Natsu beamed at her. "I'd love that."

Relieved, she let her head fall against his shoulder and closed her eyes. She let out a long breath as he pressed his mouth into the top of her head, and weaved his fingers through hers.

"I'm really sorry about the boxes by the way," he mumbled. "I'm bad at using crutches and I fell."

Lucy snickered, "It's fine. I need to sort through them anyway and a few were already falling over." She sat up and surveyed the mess a bit better. The photo albums were scattered again. "Yeah, I'd already messed them up week before last. It's fine."

Natsu went to push himself away from the wall.

"What're you doing?" Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm gunna help you clean this up."

"The hell you are," she pushed against his shoulders and shuffled back a bit, still on the floor. She pointed at him. "Stay."

He pouted.

She gathered up all the scattered pictures from the photo album that had lost its pages, and dragged the back with her to set in front of them on the floor. "You can help me sort through these if you want. Since you don't know where they go, I don't know how much help you'll be—"

"Don't insult my detective skills," he said playfully, carefully plucking a photo from the ground.

Lucy just laughed.

They'd made their way through half of the photo album, when they came to the largest photo in there.

A photo she'd never seen before, despite the many times she remembered going through them when she was growing up.

It took up a whole page, and since she'd only been a few years old at the time, she wouldn't have remembered it.

It was of the three of them. Her mother, father, and her, taken by a professional photographer. Her mother was holding her, her father had his arms wrapped around the both of them, and her parents were looking at her with what could only be seen as adoration.

They were also bare-skinned.

Her father's scars—that she now knew were from bullet-wounds inflicted by Haru—were readily visible. Her birthmark in the center of her chest was visible. Her mother had shaved one side of her head to bare her own birthmark to the camera.

Lucy couldn't breathe.

She'd never seen this picture before. Where had it come from?

Curious, she flipped it over.

There was no date.

But there was writing.

A lot of it.

Dated the day her mother had killed herself.

Lucy slammed her eyes shut.

"Lucy?"

She faintly registered Natsu's voice, but couldn't bring herself to answer. She wordlessly handed the picture over to him and felt as he took it from her carefully. She couldn't tell him to read it to her and she couldn't read it herself.

He understood though.

" _Lucy,_

 _"This will never be enough, because I cannot tell you why I've done what I've done, and you may hate me even more than you already do because I give you no explanation. I know you, my baby girl, and you're angry with me as much as I am right now angry with myself._

 _"I love you, Lucy. You are my everything. You've been my everything for longer than you've known and longer than I once knew you would be. You are the one thing in this world that means the most and I would do anything for._

 _"This picture, your father and I took with you, because we wanted to show it to you one day. When you met your soulmate and relived your life, we wanted to show you what could come from it. That despite everything—despite the marks left on us by brutal pasts, we still came together to create a family. To love._

 _"We had you. And you are worth everything. Every memory. Every bit of pain. Every challenge._

 _"Everything I have done since having you, has been to help you. To help you grow. Help you thrive. To keep you safe._

 _"Please trust me when I say that, and please trust me when I say this is not your fault. One day, you will know why, and that day I pray you will have it in your heart to forgive me._

 _"I love you, baby girl._

 _"Mom."_

She clenched her jaw. Gripped her hair. Tugged at the roots. Shoved back the screams.

Arms wrapped around her and held her tight.

He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. He was _here_. Ever since he'd been a part of her lives, he'd always been there, even when she hadn't wanted him to be. He'd be here for her in any way she needed. He'd made that very clear.

And he was the best person she could've been strung to.


	8. Epilogue

**_._**

* * *

THE UNSPOKEN LAW _  
_ _by Lucy Heartfilia_

* * *

 _This isn't a statement about why my mother killed herself. That is her own private business and there is no right anyone has to that information. I would appreciate all you readers respecting that._

 _This is a statement on what I've learned since meeting my Inflictor that I feel others should consider when it comes to the phenomena that is reincarnation and soulmates._

 _There is a majority. The majority of those who yes, have killed with the intention of killing. Those of you who will go through struggles to forgive and accept what has happened as Marked, and those of you who will have to deal with that anger and your own guilt as Inflictors._

 _Because of this majority, we are all quick to assume. There is a stigma surrounding the three rules. How they have been approached, and the affect these socially established stereotypes have had on us as a collective, is wrong._

 _There are Inflictors who have marked someone in self-defense. There are times it was an accident or even times when it was asked for._

 _I am one of those cases._

 _I will not go into detail about my story, but let me leave you with this. Before you jump to the conclusion that because you have a birthmark you are a victim, or that because you aren't you may be an Inflictor, know that yes—_

 _._

 _Rule #1: Your birthmark marks the location of a fatal wound inflicted by the hand of another._

 _Rule #2: If you run into the person who effectively ended your most recent past life, you will recover the memories of said life and your death._

 _Rule #3: For your souls to make amends in this life you will be mates._

 _._

 _—but also know this._

 _Unspoken Law: Not all those who are marked are victims, and not all those who inflict are murderers._

 _After all, it only takes one case to make it true._

 _And there will always be more than one._

* * *

 _Thank you all so much for your support, and thank you all so much for reading._

 _I hope you enjoyed it._

 _-xb_


End file.
